The Key To My heart
by Anath Tsurugi
Summary: "It really is sweet...little Erik Lehnsherr...you're in love with Charles Xavier, aren't you." "Why would you say that?" "Oh, Erik, I've always been able to see what you cherish. How else would I know how to take it away from you?" Alternate ending.
1. Unlocked

(A/N) Hmm, I don't know that you could rightly call this a fix-it fic, as I've essentially caused something worse to happen. I was just thinking through the end of the movie and wondering what could possibly prevent Erik from becoming Magneto so soon. Answer: not killing Shaw. Going on from there, the question is how to stop him from killing Shaw. Answer: putting Charles in danger. I'm not entirely sure where I'll go with this. I guess I just wanted to see what people thought of the idea. This is also my first X-Men story ever, so we'll see how I settle into the genre.

Disclaimer: _FAN_FICTION! Enjoy.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 1: Unlocked_

"Erik. What a pleasant surprise."

The moment he heard the voice, Erik turned to face its source. A hidden panel in the back wall had opened upon a mirror-lined room, revealing Shaw standing over the deactivated nuclear reactor.

In the few moments before he entered the chamber, he heard Charles' voice in his head, but the moment he stepped inside and the panel slid closed behind him, the telepath was instantly cut off. He was alone with Shaw…alone with his creator at last.

"So good to see you again," Shaw said casually as the reactor withdrew into the floor. "May I ask you something? Why are you on their side? Why fight for a doomed race who will hunt us down as soon as they realize their reign is coming to an end?"

_Who said I was fighting for them_, was the thought in his head as he threw a punch at Shaw, which he easily caught.

"I'm sorry for what happened in the camps. I truly am," he said, his quiet tone almost sincere as a simple punch, backed by all the nuclear power he'd absorbed, threw Erik back against the mirror-lined wall. Erik didn't think much of the sound of glass shattering…until he faintly heard Charles' voice in his head again.

_Erik…whatever you're doing…keep doing it. It's starting to work._

Break the mirrors, then? Sure. He could do that. The task even kept him from thinking how comforting it was to have Charles back in his mind. He was only half paying attention when Shaw started to speak again.

"But everything I did, I did for you, to unlock your power, to make you…embrace it."

When Shaw reached out a hand to help him up, Erik easily anticipated the throw, but he didn't try to resist. He allowed the full weight of his body to smash into the far wall, shattering the chamber's protective lining even further. Charles' voice came through even stronger this time.

_It's working. I'm starting to see him, but I can't yet touch his mind._

Erik actually smiled at the strength of his friend's presence, despite the pain in his body. The thing blocking him was probably that ridiculous helmet Shaw was wearing. All he needed to do was get it away from him.

"You've come a long way from bending gates. I'm so proud of you," Shaw exulted, though his tone remained quiet as ever. As he slowly began to move toward him, Erik started to pull at the metal frame of the ship about them. Pipes and beams began to collapse all around and in between them. Even though Erik was still trying to destroy the mirrors, he couldn't deny the twinge of fear in his gut. It was the fear that had been ingrained into him as a child…the knowledge that Shaw's approach promised pain. He _had_ to stop him coming any closer.

"And you're just starting to scratch the surface," Shaw said as he surveyed the twisted metal wreckage all around them. "Think of how much further we could go…together."

Seizing a beam Erik had torn free, Shaw used his own force to shove Erik back against the wall, canceling out his control of the metal.

"I don't want to hurt you, Erik," Shaw was practically crooning to him now. "I never did. I want to help you." To Erik's horror, a light seemed to come on in Shaw's eyes at that moment. "And I think I know just what to do. What did I do the first time?"

"You killed my mother," Erik hissed in his face, desperate not to let his sudden fear show. What was Shaw planning now?

"Exactly. It was love…and the loss of that love that awakened you all those years ago. Imagine how you might grow if it were to happen again."

"What…what are you talking about?" he asked, all his earlier plans completely forgotten.

"It really is sweet…little Erik Lehnsherr…you're in love with Charles Xavier, aren't you."

Erik could have sworn his heart plummeted straight out of his body in that moment. His horror and despair were made all the worse by the shock he felt from Charles through their joined minds. Of course he was hearing all of this.

"Why would you say that?" he asked. He couldn't let Shaw see how deep he'd cut him with that…had no time even to sort out his own feelings. If Shaw thought he could use Charles against him…

Shaw laughed at his flimsy denial. "Oh, Erik, I've always been able to see what you cherish. How else would I know how to take it away from you?"

_Erik…_he heard Charles' voice in his head, quavering…uncertain. _Erik, I-_

"You're wrong," he insisted, hardening his face. "Why would I…love him? Why would I love anyone? I'm not that stupid."

"But you _do_ love him," Shaw taunted, crushing his body even more forcefully against the wall. "That's why you fight for them…you fell in love with him. Heh, Angel had her suspicions. Erik, imagine…just _imagine_…the warrior you would become if you were to lose him…if I were to _take _him from you."

"Don't," Erik pleaded, feeling like a frightened little boy again. "He's not part of this."

"But Erik, you could be our _harbinger_. You really could kill them all. We wouldn't even _need_ a nuclear war. All it would take…is one death."

"_NOO!_" he cried, unable to conceal his emotions any longer. He lashed out at Shaw with the metal shrapnel drifting around the room, but Shaw pushed right back with his own power, burying Erik under a pile of metal debris. He felt the metal pierce his body in several places as Shaw strode out of the chamber.

Did he love Charles? He didn't know. He didn't know a damn thing about love. So much had happened recently, he'd started to wonder, but he hadn't really had a chance to sort through any of it. Whether or not it was love, Erik _did_ know that Charles was precious to him…vital to him in some way. If he died, anything that was left of Erik Lehnsherr would die with him.

"Charles!" he shouted as he started to shove away the debris he was trapped under, knowing the telepath would hear either way. "Run! Get away! _He's going to __**kill**__ you, Charles! RUN!_"

XxX

Charles didn't know that he'd ever felt as shocked as he did in this moment. Erik…in love with him? He'd admit he'd been starting to wonder…especially after last night…but it was another thing to hear it directly. He had _promised_ himself he would stay out of that part of Erik's mind, but was that because he respected his privacy…or because he was afraid to know the answer?

"What is it? What's wrong?" Moira asked, noticing that he'd ceased to focus on the beached sub.

"Shaw's coming," he said quietly, making no mention of Erik. "He's coming for me…to kill me."

"Well, we…we won't let him. We'll stop him!" she insisted, trying to reassure him.

"Thank you, Moira, but I don't know if any of us can; not while his mind's shielded. Erik is down."

Moira gasped. "Is…is he-"

"He's alive," he told her, relieved that he had at least that much to be grateful for. Only…now…

"What does he want with you?" she probed.

"I'm not sure," he lied as he started to head out of the downed jet. "Maybe I'm a threat."

"Charles, please! Don't go out there. We'll protect you. We all will."

"You can't," he said as he pushed past her, his voice serene, though his insides were awash with turmoil. "Not from this."

"What's going on?" Raven asked when she saw them emerge. There was no time to explain it to her, though. Shaw emerged from the sub just then, walking slowly across the beach, as if he were a king holding court. The dogfights between his people and theirs slowly ground to a halt as he approached the jet. Raven and Moira moved to stand in front of Charles.

"I know you're there, Charles Xavier…and I know you know what I want. So come out and play, or I'll just…detonate right here," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis and releasing a small wave of energy.

"You're going to do that anyway, though…aren't you," Charles responded solemnly as he stepped out from behind the two women.

"Perhaps not. I might be persuaded to do otherwise. Come talk with me."

Hundreds of innocent lives at stake…and his death might save them? What else could he do?

Moira tried to stop him, but Raven intervened. "He knows what he's doing," she reassured her. Charles almost wanted to laugh. If only she knew. There was no plan…none whatsoever…just save as many people as he possibly could. Interestingly enough, it was not any of those people he was thinking of as he walked toward Shaw…toward his probable demise: not Raven or Moira or any of the others, not the soldiers, not the rest of world…none of them. It was Erik. All he could think was, _If I die…what will happen to him?_

Once Charles had reached him, the two men just stood and stared at each other.

"So what are you waiting for?" he asked after a time.

"For little Erik to join us, of course. There wouldn't be much point to killing you if he's not here to watch. I just had to make sure he didn't come out and stop you from giving yourself up."

"Do we really have to draw this out?" Charles asked, his chest constricting in pain as he listened to Erik scream inside his head, warning, pleading, begging for some sort of response.

"I'm afraid that's the only way to do this. Riptide. Azazel," he called to his two associates, nodding in Charles' direction. The red mutant grabbed a hold of Riptide and the two of them soon reappeared beside Charles, grabbing his arms and forcing him to his knees.

_Charles, __**please**__! Talk to me! Don't…don't __**die**__, damn you! I…I __**need**__ you._

_I'm sorry, Erik._

_Charles? No! You can't just-_

_I'm sorry…but if giving my life can truly save a lot of people…then it's all right if I die._

_**That's**__ what he told you? This isn't about them, Charles! It's about you and me. He'll kill all those humans anyway._

_Not if I buy you the time you need to stop him._

"CHARLES!" Erik shouted as he burst out of the sub, stopping short at the sight he beheld: Charles on his knees before Shaw. Charles could almost swear he felt his own heart breaking at the look of horror and pain on his friend's face. Keeping his connection to Erik active, he forced himself to experience every moment of his agony.

That agony soon devolved into rage, though. Shouting as he brought his powers to bear on the sub, he ripped whole sections of it free, gathering them above his head like a legion of javelins.

"Erik, don't! _Please!_" Charles shouted, briefly struggling against Riptide and Azazel. The metal-kine either didn't hear or didn't care. It was much the same at this point.

"Let him go _now_," Erik ordered slowly.

"My, this arrangement is already working wonders for you. I wonder what might happen if I…" he suggested, raising a hand over Charles.

"_Stop!_" Erik screamed, letting one of his impromptu javelins fly. Only his aim was off and he struck Riptide through the chest instead of Shaw. It didn't make much of a difference either way. Shaw's blow was not fatal.

He struck Charles to the ground. With all the power behind it, the blow was roughly the equivalent of a sledgehammer strike to the head. The telepath went down with a cry of pain that cut Erik straight to the heart. He froze as Charles lay there, dazed and in pain. The others tried to step in, but Shaw didn't even have to look at them to stop them.

"One move and he dies."

_Charles…_

"Oh, poor Riptide," Shaw said, hardly sparing his dead associate a passing glance. "But Erik…beautifully done, and all because I _hit_ him? What more could I pull from you?"

"I will _kill_ you!" Erik hissed at him, his face a mask of rage.

"Erik…Erik, no…" Charles struggled to get out, practically choking on his own words. He coughed and a trickle of blood escaped his mouth. "Don't…hurt anyone else. Nobody else…has to die…"

The sight of Charles so injured and helpless drained the rage right out of the powerful mutant. His hands fell slowly to his sides and the javelins crashed to the sand.

"You know, he could be right," Shaw said thoughtfully.

"Please," Erik begged, his dignity forgotten. "Don't do this."

"What say we make a bargain?" Shaw suggested, speaking to the group at large. "You let us leave here, with Xavier, and I'll let you and your precious humans live…for the moment."

"How do we know you won't kill him?" Raven demanded.

"Haha! Erik knows better than that, don't you, Erik," he said, turning to look at his helpless creation. "The only way I'll kill him is right in front of your eyes. I've got something much more special in mind for him."

"What other choice do we have?" Beast asked.

"You don't really," Shaw said, still looking only at Erik. "The only other way this is going to go is I kill Charles Xavier here and now, then destroy both fleets. Your choice."

Erik hated it. He couldn't _stand_ it…Charles in the clutches of this monster. But at least, this way, he would still be alive. Shaw would make good his promise not to kill him, lest it be before Erik's own eyes.

_I'm sorry, Charles,_ he said in his mind, knowing that they were still connected.

_It's…all right. I understand,_ the telepath thought back, his brain already becoming hazy.

_You're going to suffer. Shaw is merciless. He'll hurt you to get to me…but I'll find you. No matter where he takes you, I'll find you. I promise you._

_I know. I…I…believe in you. Erik…do…do you really…love me…_he asked, his eyes opening one last time to look up at his friend before they shuddered closed again, his head collapsing against the sand in unconsciousness.

"Take him," Erik said, his voice nearly a whisper.

Smiling approvingly, Shaw threw a glance toward Azazel, who quickly picked up the unconscious telepath. Angel ran to join them and they moved away from the other mutants, forming their teleport line along the shore.

"_I will __**find**__ you!_" Erik shouted at Shaw mere seconds before they vanished into thin air.

The others started to gather once they'd disappeared, but Erik didn't even look at any of them. He moved toward the shore…to the spot where Charles had vanished from his sight. He could feel the humans turning their weapons against them, but their petty fear meant less than nothing to him now. These insects weren't even worthy of destruction. He would simply show them how worthless they were…then he would go after Shaw and rescue Charles…and this time, Shaw would not escape.

He could hear the shock from the others as the missiles were launched from the fleets, but he didn't acknowledge it. What came next was practically child's play. He raised his hands and dismantled the missiles in mid-flight, smirking in satisfaction as the useless scrap fell into the ocean.

Shaw needn't have worried about his lost chance to begin a nuclear holocaust. He'd just unleashed something far worse on the world.

XxX

(A/N) So what do you think? Do you buy it? I think the title might be a bit goofy, but it also fits, so…*shrugs* Any desire for more?


	2. Broken Lock

(A/N) Wow, you guys. Thanks for all the reviews, the favorites, and alerts. I'm glad the story's being well received. Hopefully, you'll continue to enjoy…

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 2: Broken Lock_

Following the missile fiasco, a tenuous peace was struck between the two fleets and the mutants on the beach, with Moira acting as go-between. Being American nationals, Raven, Hank, Sean, and Alex were all permitted to come aboard one of the American vessels, but Erik, being German, was made to wait on the beach, which he really had no objections to because he frankly couldn't stand the sight of any of them right now. Moira offered to have a medic come ashore to treat his injuries, but he flat out refused, saying he could handle it himself, and he could. You didn't live the sort of life he led and not learn a thing or two about treating injuries. Thankfully, the jet's first aid supplies had survived the crash intact. So Erik cleaned what needed cleaning, stitched what needed stitching, and bandaged what needed bandaging. Once he'd done that, he proceeded to tear apart both the jet and what remained of the sub. It made for a rather intimidating sight when both fleets sent envoys to talk to him.

Erik knew he wasn't really being kept on the beach because he was neither Soviet nor American. That was just their excuse. He knew _he_ was the one they truly feared. They could kill the others if they really felt the need to, but he could negate any weapon they felt like throwing at him and they knew it. In fact, both envoys tried to make him offers of joining their respective militaries, but he refused to even acknowledge them. He just sat cross-legged in the sand, staring out at the water and twirling the old Nazi coin between his fingers. There was only one human he would speak with…and after a whole day and night of the silent treatment, they finally sent her back over.

"Why did you destroy the jet?" Moira asked him as she approached from the dinghy that had brought her ashore. "Hank's pretty upset."

"It felt good," he replied snidely.

"And why all this sulking?"

Raising his eyes, he glared daggers at the agent. "Why do you _think_?" he snarled.

"Erik, I know how you feel, but this isn't going to help Charles."

_You don't know how I feel, you foolish woman. You __**really**__ don't._

"Maybe not," he said after a time, "but neither will keeping me prisoner here, and I'm not going to cooperate with them if my only option is to become their weapon. You know they'd kill me if they thought they could manage it."

Moira looked torn by this, but she didn't deny it. After a while, she squatted beside him. "You know something."

"I know many things," he shot back bluntly. "Were you looking for something specific?"

"Why Charles? What did Shaw want with him? What was it about him that made him drop his plan completely?"

"I don't know," he lied. He absolutely refused to bring any of the others in on this business…especially when he didn't even understand it himself.

They both remained silent for another stretch of time, but then Moira awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "It…it's okay, Erik. It's okay. I know."

"You _know_?" he returned, glaring fiercely at the hand on his shoulder. "What…exactly…do you know?"

"I know…what happened the other night…between you and Charles."

At this, Erik's eyes flared open in rage and he shoved Moira away, leaping smoothly to his feet to tower over her. "What were you doing? _Spying_ on us?"

"No!" she insisted, raising her hands defensively as she slowly got to her feet. "It was an accident. I was coming to talk to Charles and…and I heard."

"It's _none_ of your business!" he snapped at her, turning to pace through the metal graveyard he'd erected.

"I know…and I'm sorry," she started, following after him. "I just wanted you to know…it's okay. Whatever's between you…it's all fine…however long it's been going on-"

"That was…the first time," Erik admitted, not looking at her.

_Charles…was my first._

"Oh…oh, Erik," she murmured, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder again, but thinking better of it.

"We were just…we only…I don't even know," he continued, unable to stop the words now they'd started. He had no idea why he felt the need to justify himself to this woman. Maybe…he wanted it to somehow not be his fault Charles had been taken…but it was. He _knew_ it was. If they had never met, Charles would be safe now. "It's me. It's because of _me_. It's my fault. Shaw did this…to get to me!" he said, the words spilling from his mouth in spurts.

"What do you mean?"

"He said…that I loved him."

"And do you?" Moira prompted gently.

"Yes…maybe…I don't know! He's my best friend…"

"Lover or friend…Shaw knew he was important to you…so he took him. Erik…what's he going to do to him?"

"He's going to destroy him," Erik said dispassionately, remembering his own treatment at the mad man's hands. "He'll ravage every nerve with pain and tear his mind apart. He'll hurt him in any way he can…just to hurt me."

"What can we do?"

"You all can go back home. I'm going after them," he said, gathering his conviction around him like a shield.

"But you can't do it alone!"

"Oh, no? What are you going to do? Call in your little friends? They tried to _kill_ us!" he reminded her. "They'd sooner want Charles _executed_ than rescued. They'd let Shaw kill him!"

"No," Moira whispered. She didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe in Charles' dream of a world where mutants and humans could live together…but it was hard to believe in the ashes of today. She had seen the truth of Erik's words.

"What about the others?" she finally asked. "Charles is important to them, too."

"They'll let them go. _I'm_ the one they're really afraid of. I'll find Charles on my own. The others don't need to be involved."

"You'll be on the run, you know? From both the CIA and the KGB. If you run, there's nothing I can do to protect you," she warned him.

"I've been running my whole life. Don't see any reason to stop now."

"There're some rations and water in the boat. Don't get yourself killed out there. Charles would never forgive me."

"Heh, what are you going to tell them? I overpowered you?" he asked derisively. "Going to try your little gun on me?"

"No. I'm going to tell them the truth…because Charles deserves at least that much...and I know better than to use a gun on you."

Erik stared at the agent a moment, not really sure what to say.

"I hope you find the answer you're looking for out there…for both your sakes."

This was Moira's goodbye. He didn't offer one in return. He simply nodded and took off for the dinghy waiting on the shore.

XxX

As Charles began the slow climb back toward consciousness, his first instinct was to seek out minds to read for information on what was happening to him, but he found none, and when he finally opened his eyes he knew why. He was lying on a hard cot in a fairly large cell…just across the way from Sebastian Shaw, complete with helmet, and Emma Frost in her diamond form.

"You…can't be here," Charles said sluggishly, his mind still a little slow.

"Do you really think it was that hard for Azazel to break her out? The CIA didn't stand a chance."

"What happened to the others?" he asked, hoping his captor possessed at least that much mercy.

"They're dead," he answered coldly.

"W-what?" he mumbled in disbelief, his mind still hazy. "It…it can't be…"

"After we left, both fleets turned and fired on the beach. No one survived. I'm sorry for your loss."

Was…was it true? Could they really all be gone? Havoc and Banshee? Beast? Moira? Raven?

Erik?

"No," he groaned through grit teeth, desperately trying to gather his wits before he could allow himself the terror of that last thought. Erik could not be dead. It simply wasn't true. "I don't believe you. Erik would never have allowed it. No weapon made by modern man could kill him."

"Are you sure? There were a lot of missiles. Could he have really stopped them all?" he asked as he began to move toward him.

"Absolutely," he replied, slowly sitting up. "I have complete faith in him. Besides…if Erik were really dead, what use could you possibly have for me?"

"More than you might realize," Shaw said, sitting down beside him. "Do you know…just how powerful you really are, Charles?"

"Take off that helmet and we'll find out."

Shaw laughed. "No, that's not how we do things around here. You see, this isn't just about Erik; it's about you, too."

"What do you want with me?"

He had no warning. Unable to sense Frost's mind in her diamond form, he had no defense prepared when her mind suddenly crashed into his, revealing thoughts he would have preferred to keep hidden.

_Erik…_

"_NOO!"_

"_**He's going to **__**kill**__** you, Charles! RUN!**__"_

_Don't…don't __**die**__, damn you! I…I __**need**__ you._

"_**Stop!**__"_

_No matter where he takes you, I'll find you. I promise you._

_Do…do you love me?_

"Stop it!" he snapped at the other telepath.

"What I want from you right now, Charles, is to know what your exact feelings for Erik Lehnsherr are."

Once again, his mind was violently broken into. Emma was the first telepath he'd ever come across, so he had no real practice in psychic self-defense. She could read him like an open book.

_Hands grip his hips as his body moves against Erik's. Tracing his own hands up and down the other man's back, he moans his name into his chest._

"_Erik…Erik…"_

"Stop!" he pleaded, jumping up from the cot in an attempt to get away from her. "That's private."

"They've slept together," she reported unfeelingly.

"Really?" Shaw asked, his voice rising in interest. "Tell me more."

He tried to stop her this time, but he just couldn't hold out. He couldn't get into her mind. It was a one-way street.

_He sat in the kitchen for a long time after Raven had gone, thinking about what she'd said while nursing a glass of wine…then a second…and then a third. He's contemplating a fourth when Erik suddenly enters the room, looking all manner of out of sorts._

"_Something wrong, Erik?" he asks, pouring himself the fourth glass._

_Erik doesn't answer. He crosses the room in barely three strides, grabbing Charles' shoulders and kneeling in front of him. Then he hungrily presses his lips to his, moaning quietly at the contact._

_For a moment, he's too shocked to do anything but let Erik kiss him. For the barest of moments, he feels a groan on his own lips, and he feels his fingertips just barely ghost across the taller man's chest. Then, just as suddenly, he jumps back._

"_What…what are you __**doing**__?"_

_Erik kneels there in front of him for several moments, his eyes wide and pleading. Then he takes Charles' hands in his. "I…I want to…what's the word? Geschlecht…Sex? I…I want to make love…to you."_

"_What?" he whispers. Has he really gotten that drunk already?_

"_I…I never have…with anyone. It's the one thing he didn't take away from me…and I want __**you**__ to have it. I…I __**want**__ you."_

_Charles finds he is not…entirely averse to the idea, but he's only ever slept with men twice before, and both times he'd been horribly inebriated. This time it will only be…slightly tipsy. _

_He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy a good shag. He's been thinking to try and get into Moira's pants once all this was over. Sex is something he understands…only…Erik is somebody he respects...cares for. What will happen…how will their relationship change if they sleep together? He can't deny he finds his friend physically attractive. That's all that's really needed. Besides, maybe…if he shares this moment with Erik…if he gives him this one good experience…perhaps he can convince him that killing Shaw isn't worth it? So, downing half the fourth glass in one go, he sets it back down on the table before reaching out to take Erik's hands in his._

"_All right," he says quietly, perhaps a little buzzed. "Let's have some fun."_

"Stop!" Charles begged, falling to his knees when he hit the far wall of the cell. "Don't look." She could watch him have sex with any girl in the world; he wouldn't care, but this…this had been different. As strange as the encounter had been, it had been the most intimate experience of his life. That night…to barge in on it like this…to just take it from him…was nothing less than a violation.

And she did look. Of course she looked. She watched them tumble into Charles' bed, watched him awkwardly teach Erik what to do. She saw the moment when he realized they weren't just having casual sex anymore…and that he had never felt quite this way during love making before. She saw the moment his confusion began.

Charles shook his head, burying his face in his hands. "Please…please. It's mine…"

"Well, now it belongs to me," she taunted him before turning back to Shaw with the report, "He's not sure."

"We'll just have to help you be sure, then…won't we, Charles," Shaw said, following his captive's erratic retreat and coming to kneel beside him. "After all, I can't use your feelings if you don't even know what they are. You've never known real pain…have you. That's about to change," he finished, draping an arm around the telepath's hunched shoulders.

Taking her cue from the memory, Frost moved to kneel before him, and while Shaw held him immobile, she unzipped the front of his uniform and opened it to have a look inside. Only just concealed by the uniform's collar was a very distinct love bite, right at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"Isn't that interesting," Frost said, her voice colder than the arctic. "I don't suppose you know who _gave_ that to you."

Charles couldn't suppress the shudder of fear that ran through his body. If they could bring him so low with only one memory…what more could they do to him?

_Find me, Erik. Please find me._

XxX

Escaping from the American and Soviet fleets wasn't even remotely difficult. One or two of them tried to fire on Erik as he fled; he didn't look back to see who'd done it. It mattered little to him. He simply flung a hand back each time to dismantle the annoying things in midair.

The dinghy had a motor, of course, but he found he could travel faster if he simply propelled the metal in the craft through the waves. This helped as he got further out to sea, because the dinghy obviously wasn't made for the open ocean, but his command of the metal helped to keep him afloat. Keeping track of the planet's magnetic poles, he was easily able to point himself in the proper direction, and going in this fashion, he pushed himself relentlessly through the night, feeling neither hunger nor fatigue. The grueling work allowed him to keep his mind off the guilty and confused thoughts following directly on his heels.

It wasn't until morning, when the Florida coast was in sight, that Erik allowed himself to collapse to the floor of the boat and let the motor take over for a time, only using his power to occasionally correct for direction. He took a few swallows of water, but didn't touch the rations. He wasn't even sure if the water would stay down. He knew the Navy would have warned the coast guard to keep an eye out for him along the Florida coast, so he'd decided not to go there early on. He still had a ways to travel. He had to get back to the mansion.

Unfortunately, now that he was taking the time to rest, he was also giving himself time to think…about the past few days…and about Charles…his friend…his…?

It had started the night before the battle…when he'd found Raven in his bed. She only wanted him because no one else in her life had ever told her she was beautiful as she was. He knew this, and as such, the feeling of desire was not mutual. He _did_ find her beautiful, but in the way he'd explained to her, as a tiger was beautiful. He had never felt the thing they called desire…but that began to change when he was kissing Raven.

_This isn't right_, he hadn't been able to help but think…not because she was young, or because she was his best friend's sister, but because it…wasn't _her_ he wanted.

When Raven had finally pulled away from him, smiling, she didn't seem to notice the disquiet look on his face. She'd fairly breezed out of the room, leaving Erik alone with his thoughts. Why on Earth would he think about _wanting_ someone? He'd never wanted anyone before. That had been when he'd remembered the sight of Charles sitting across the chess table from him. He'd been too caught up in his venomous thoughts of Shaw then to realize it, but…Charles was…beautiful.

There was really no other word for it. How had he never noticed before? His smooth, pale skin, the way his brown hair curled gently across his face, his eyes…those eyes…like the sky…saying everything and nothing all at once. He could lose himself in those eyes…had, more than once. They made him forget what he was…what he had lost. Everything about him seemed so soft and smooth…untainted. Erik had felt his breath catch in his throat at the thought of what it might be like to touch him…to hold him…to _kiss_ him. His breathing had grown husky as a strange new sensation traveled from his chest straight down to his groin. Was this what people meant…this feeling…when they said 'I want you'?

It was that feeling that had caused him to seek Charles out that night, finding him halfway to being drunk. For only a moment, he'd been hesitant. Did he really want this…if Charles' better judgment wouldn't allow him to refuse? He really had thought about it, though, and had, thankfully, not turned him down. Such had been the path that led them to Charles' bed that night.

"_So, Erik, have you ever even touched yourself before?" Charles asked as he led his blushing friend into his room. The alcohol was making him much less…delicate than he usually was in conversation._

"_Yes," Erik answered indignantly, the blush darkening a shade. _

"_Well, there's that, then," Charles said, motioning for him to sit down on the bed before heading into the bathroom. "Would you rather give or receive?" he called out to him._

_Never having done this before, Erik wasn't really sure what either one entailed. What he __**did**__ know was that he __**wanted**__ Charles…wanted him so badly he could hardly breathe, so he made the decision then and there to take a more active role in this. "Give," he replied with more conviction than he felt._

"_All right then," Charles said as he re-entered the room, carrying a container of Vaseline and having already shed his sweater._

"_What's that for?" he asked, eyeing the container with a raised eyebrow._

"_We'll need it. Trust me," he said, setting the container down on his nightstand before kicking his shoes off. Then he moved to stand before Erik, who had come to stand beside the bed, but hadn't sat down yet. Then he took his hands in his, looking him firmly in the eyes and letting him know this wasn't just the alcohol. "__**Do**__ you trust me, Erik?"_

_Suddenly feeling nervous, Erik squeezed Charles' hands briefly before answering, "Yes."_

"_And this is really what you want?" he asked, gently tracing his thumbs over the backs of Erik's hands._

_Nodding, Erik leaned in, resting his forehead against Charles' and murmuring against his lips, "I want this. I want __**you**__."_

"_Then have me," Charles said, smiling warmly as he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Erik's._

_They stood like that, just holding each other and kissing, neither of them were certain how long, before Charles began to slip his hands beneath Erik's skintight black turtleneck, running his fingers teasingly over the toned muscles. While he worked at that, Erik started to unbutton his shirt. When he'd gotten it all the way undone, they separated briefly so that Charles could pull Erik's shirt off. As they got back to the kissing, a little heavier this time, Erik slowly pushed the unbuttoned shirt from Charles' shoulders. Several kisses later, Charles was stealthily undoing Erik's pants and working a hand inside, reaching in past the underwear to get a squeeze between his legs. Erik gasped rather loudly at the single touch, feeling himself grow hard almost instantly._

"_You'll probably finish very quickly…since this is your first time," Charles whispered to him, nibbling gently on his earlobe. "If you want this to last longer…would you let me try something?"_

_Erik nodded, barely managing to get out a strangled, "Yeah." Charles took that opportunity to slip out of the rest of his own clothing, while Erik watched, breathless. Grinning roguishly at Erik's reaction to him, Charles gave him a gentle push, causing him to fall back onto the bed._

_**I'd ask you if you like what you see, but those visuals are pretty graphic**__, Charles said of the new fantasies he observed in Erik's mind._

_**Shut up**__, he thought back at him, smiling uncertainly as he kicked off his own shoes._

_**Technically, I didn't say anything**__, Charles returned impishly, helping Erik remove the rest of his clothing before slowly crawling on top of him. As he lavished his neck with kisses, he reached a hand down to wrap around Erik's manhood, stroking and squeezing in a teasing yet gentle way. It wasn't long at all before Erik was writhing beneath him._

_As Charles had predicted, Erik came quickly, spilling into Charles' hand with a swift upward thrust and a strangled cry. Feeling a little disappointed as he lay there panting, he looked up at Charles, who was still on his knees over him. "Is that it?"_

"_Hardly," Charles said before licking the fluid from his fingers. "It's only just begun. Remember that Vaseline?" he asked, reaching for the container he'd previously set aside. Erik nodded. "Now you get to see what it's for. Sit up against the headboard if you wouldn't mind."_

_Only slightly confused, Erik did as Charles asked, watching as he opened the container._

"_As you may know, the anus has no natural lubricants, so it makes intercourse an interesting proposition. Some form of lubricant must be applied to both the anus and the phallus," Charles explained. As Erik listened, he suddenly found the whole situation extremely funny and began to laugh accordingly. Charles looked up at him, blushing lightly and looking uncertain for the first time that night. "What's so funny?"_

"_You. Charles…look. We're in bed together, and you're still in professor mode. Can't you just…let it happen?"_

_Charles glanced down at himself, looking rather sheepish. "You're right. I…was drunk the last time I did this with a man, so I guess I need to go over it again for myself, as well. Think you know what to do?" he asked, offering the container to Erik._

"_Seems easy enough," he said as he took it, dipping his first two fingers into the Vaseline. Then he used his free hand to draw Charles closer to him. Once their bodies were pressed tightly together, Erik slipped his hand beneath him, locating the entrance he wanted and slowly sliding his first finger in. _

_Charles hissed and a shudder ran through his entire body at this, but he rested his head in the crook of Erik's neck, snuggling a little closer to let Erik know he should continue. So Erik pushed in as far as he could go, waiting several minutes before adding the next finger. Charles' breath was hot and heavy against his neck as he worked. Turning his head slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek._

"_That enough?" he asked as he slowly pulled out. Charles nodded, reaching for the Vaseline once again._

_**My turn.**_

_With that, Charles scooped up a healthy amount of Vaseline from the jar and began to rub it all over Erik's cock. Under his skilled hands, it wasn't long at all before Erik was hard again, and glancing down between their two bodies, he could see that Charles was hard now, too. _

_Once this was taken care of, Charles got himself into position over Erik once again, resting his hands on his shoulders for balance._

"_Ready?"_

_Erik nodded. "You?"_

_Charles nodded back, leaning forward and kissing him as he slowly slid down onto him. Once Erik was fully in, they just held each other for several long moments, sharing gentle kisses as they both became used to the sensation. One kiss Erik left became a small bite and he didn't really notice the mark until later._

_When they both felt that the time had been sufficient, Charles slowly began to move his body, up and down. At first, Erik wasn't sure what to do. The new sensations felt amazing, but he felt like he should be contributing, as well, so he tried to move also, making a clumsy attempt at matching Charles' pace. Unfortunately, this resulted in the two of them smacking their heads lightly together. After exchanging apology kisses and a good chuckle over the whole thing, they started to move together again, finally working out a rhythm between the two of them. As the rhythm accelerated, the sensations began to heighten. Erik grabbed a hold of Charles' hips, trying to get himself in a little further, and Charles ran his hands up and down his back._

"_Erik…Erik…" he moaned over and over again._

_Suddenly, just when Erik thought he might come again, he thrust into Charles once more and the telepath's eyes flew wide open and his head fell back, one last blissful cry of Erik's name escaping his lips as he came._

_In the moment of his orgasm, Charles' mental barriers seemed to collapse and Erik received a flood of the intense pleasure he was experiencing. It was this last stroke that caused him to finally come, holding Charles tightly against him as he finished in him. _

_As Erik sat there, breathing heavily, with Charles cradled in his arms, he continued to receive emotional feedback from his friend…the dissipating waves of bliss, along with a hint of…confusion?_

"_What's wrong?" he asked, glancing down at Charles. Immediately, he felt the barriers go back up._

"_Nothing. Nothing's __**wrong**__," Charles insisted. "That…that was just about the best shag I've ever had."_

"_Then what is it?" he asked, reaching a hand forward to cup his cheek. For a moment, Charles leaned into the caress, but then he looked up at Erik again, his face a study in uncertainty._

"_I don't know. I really don't know."_

"_Do you…regret-"_

"_No!" he insisted right away. "Absolutely not. I enjoyed every minute. I just…don't know what I felt…just now."_

_Nodding sadly, Erik began to climb out from under him. "I should go."_

"_If…if you like," Charles said, sitting awkwardly on the bed as Erik pulled his clothes back on._

"_Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning," Erik said, knowing that whatever this was, they would have to put it aside until after tomorrow…for the sake of their mission._

"_Erik!" Charles called out, grabbing a hold of him before he had the chance to leave. "I…I really __**did**__ enjoy it."_

"_I know," he said, squeezing the hand Charles held. __**Now I just want to know why we're both so scared.**_

Was it for _this_ that Charles had been taken from him? This fear? This uncertainty? How could such a thing be love? How could he ever hope to know what it was he felt? Shaw had screwed up his emotions so badly he hardly ever understood the things he felt, save for his hatred. Charles had begun to change that. He had brought the light of companionship into his life. He had shown him happy memories he had thought long dead. He had believed in him. He had spoken his name…with such warmth.

_Erik…_

And the part he felt most guilty for was that he hadn't had an answer for Charles in that last moment. When he'd wanted to know if he really loved him…he hadn't been able to answer. He had no idea what sort of mental picture his friend might have received. He had sent Charles into the lion's den without even one shred of comfort. What if he never saw him again? He'd never forgive himself.

_So you'll find him. There's nothing else to do…no room for doubt._

It was with this conviction in mind that Erik reached the mansion, three days after fleeing Cuba. He'd traveled up the east coast, entered New York secretly, and made his way back to the mansion. There were a few things to take care of before he started off again, but he found he was bone-tired when he arrived, so he decided to leave them until morning.

He wasn't sure why, but instead of going to the room he'd stayed in, he went straight to Charles' room. Looking around the now empty room, he found himself reliving every detail of their night together…even the painful ones. No matter how painful or how beautiful, it was all connected to Charles.

As he collapsed on the bed, he couldn't keep himself from drawing the blankets in around him, breathing in their scent…Charles' scent. He didn't quite know what it was, but it was a scent he uniquely identified with the telepath.

"I will find you. I will find you," he whispered over and over again as he dropped off to sleep, still clutching the blankets to him.

XxX

(A/N) Still living up to expectations, I hope? Do let me know if there are any glaring errors, cuz I'm finishing this around four in the morning and I'm pretty much dead on my feet.


	3. A Lost Key

(A/N) Thank you everyone for your continuing support. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so much.

Response to Andromede: No trouble understanding you at all. I'm glad I managed to put a new spin on things for you. Portraying Charles as the dominant one just seemed natural to me (since James McAvoy has made it pretty damn clear to the fans that his portrayal of Charles Xavier is a bit of a sex fiend.) Combine that with the fact that Erik, no matter how badass he is, is very emotionally vulnerable, so…there you have it.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 3: A Lost Key_

After two days of sifting through a veritable sea of red tape, Moira was finally able to bring word to her friends. The four mutants had been allowed berths, but they all knew what they really were: Prisoners.

On the morning of the third day, the five of them gathered in Raven's bunk, a tight fit, but none of them really minded.

"So what's up?" Havok asked her. "They givin' you the sack for letting Erik go?"

"Not yet. The director's trying to intervene for us. You're being released into the custody of the CIA, and he'll let you return to your homes."

"What homes?" Beast asked.

"He won't ask where. You'll just be required to check in periodically. They don't know about the mansion. I didn't tell them anything."

"What's gonna happen to you?" Banshee asked her.

"I'm facing an inquiry. It shouldn't be too bad, but until then, I'm off active duty…and I can help you find Charles."

"What about Erik?" Raven asked, the hurt in her voice tangible. "He just…left? Why? You didn't even try to stop him?"

"Do you really think I could have stopped Erik Lehnsherr? Could any of us?" she asked. Secretly, Moira felt pity for the girl, knowing she'd had a bit of a thing for the metal-kine…as she'd had a bit of a thing for Charles. She wouldn't tell these four about Charles and Erik. Apart from it not being her place to say anything, she had no way of knowing how they'd take it.

"You're probably right," Raven admitted begrudgingly. "But he could've at least waited. We can help him. We want to find Charles, too!"

"We all know Charles is the only one he'll listen to. There's no sense in questioning his MO now because it's not going to help us get Charles back. We have to lead our own investigation."

"How?" Havok asked. "How are you going to get access to anything useful if you're off active duty?"

"I've still got a few files hanging around from the Shaw case. The best place to start would be back at the Hellfire Club."

XxX

Charles' first session with Emma and Shaw had been…not pleasant, to say the least. The only really good thing he could say came out of it was the opportunity to practice some psychic dueling with Emma. He still couldn't get into her head, but he was mostly able to keep her out of his. When they'd figured out he was learning, they'd left him alone. He had no way of knowing how long it had been, but he supposed that was intentional…keeping a prisoner off balance. Every minute since they'd gone, he'd spent trying to reach a mind on the outside, but he couldn't seem to get past the cell walls. Either they were miles away from civilization…or there was something about this room. Emma answered the question when she and Shaw finally returned.

"You can stop trying to reach the outside," she said. "Our telepathic abilities don't extend beyond this room."

"And how did you manage that?' Charles asked, looking at Shaw.

"Remember the void from the sub? My helmet? All specially designed for me by the Russians. It's the same with this room. It wasn't originally intended to be a cell, just a place safe from telepathic interference. Pretty useful, huh?"

"So it would seem."

"So…Charles…what are we going to do about this?" Shaw continued in an unassuming manner. "You're learning quickly, already able to keep Emma out of your head. That doesn't work for me, though. I was thinking…sedation."

Charles' eyes widened in a moment of panic. "No. You _can't_ do that. Do you have _any_ idea what that does to a telepath?"

"In fact, I do, but you don't have to worry. There aren't any minds here for yours to bleed into," Shaw explained as Charles felt the prick of a needle in his neck. "The only one this is going to hurt…is you."

Charles realized, as his senses began to swirl together, that he'd been foolish for allowing Shaw to distract him long enough for Emma to get behind him with a syringe. He was almost helpless without his power, he'd come to rely on it so much. He vaguely felt his fellow telepath catch him as he swooned. Then he was lifted back onto the cot. All the while, his thoughts were swirling madly, his telepathic shields systematically torn to shreds by the drug.

Once again, he felt Emma's mind plunge into his, and now he was helpless to stop her. She was probing through his memories, searching for he knew not what…but then the chosen memory began to take shape in his mind's eye.

_Raven…as a child…standing outside his refrigerator, looking guilty and afraid._

"_You're not…scared of me?"_

This moment of intense happiness, however, was soon counter-pointed with-

_Why did I ever have children in the first place? These stretch marks are ungodly._

Ah, yes…his mother the trophy wife. She'd never made these sentiments known to him, but he'd often wondered if she would have thought differently…if she'd known he could hear her. The worst of his gift had been when he was younger, because he just did not know how to shut people up. They were all so _loud_.

_The smile on Erik's face as he moved the satellite dish…_

Erik's smile…_God_, how he loved it. He had worked so hard to bring it out. But that smile soon turned into a look of agony…

"_Run! Get away! __**He's going to **__**kill**__** you, Charles! RUN!**__"_

_He_ had been the cause of that pain. What if he never had a chance to see him smile again? What if…he caused it to disappear forever?

_The first moment he'd connected with Cerebro…those many minds…all of them connected to him…flowing through him…_

He'd never realized just how many mutants there were in the world. It was as he'd told Erik.

"_You're not alone."_

"_I'm very sorry…but your parents didn't survive the accident."_

This wasn't a sad memory. What it _was_ was a source of guilt for him…because he hadn't known _how_ to feel about his parents' deaths. They had never been a close family…but they were still his _parents_. They were dead. Shouldn't he feel…something?

_The sound…the feel of his name…whispered by Erik's lips against his neck._

"_Charles…"_

He had never felt anything like it. No woman he had been with had ever spoken his name like that…in a way that clearly said how much he was cherished…a way that said, 'I _need_ you…I need you in order to live…'

But then-

_The pain in his eyes when they'd suddenly separated. Erik…he was so strong…but so vulnerable at the same time._

_**Do you love me?**_

He had hurt him…he knew it. Had he ever hurt anyone as deeply as he'd hurt Erik in that moment of uncertainty? Suddenly, he found he couldn't take it anymore.

"_Erik!_" he cried out, his body convulsing. "_Erik, I'm sorry! Please forgive me!_"

"He _cannot_ forgive you," Shaw's voice whispered in his ear, caressing his mind like the flat of a sharpened blade, "because you _hurt_ him. You are no better than I am. In fact, you're worse. I at least intended to make him stronger. You, on the other hand, took his heart…and _smashed_ it…because you're selfish…because you _need_ him to need you…to depend on you."

"_NO!_" he screamed. "That's not true!"

_I'm not like that…I'm __**not**__!_

_But I hurt him. Did…did I just…**use** him…?_

_Erik…my Erik…_

_**Your**__ Erik?_ Emma's voice this time.

"Erik…help me. Please…_Erik!_" he cried, no longer caring if they heard. "_Save me!_"

"He _will_, you know?" Shaw warned him as darkness overtook him. "What will you do then?"

XxX

"_Erik…help me. Please…__**Erik!**__"_

Erik jolted from his sleep with a sharp gasp. Briefly, he glanced around. For a moment, he could have sworn he'd heard Charles' voice. It didn't take him long to realize he'd been dreaming.

More like a nightmare. It wasn't just a projection of his guilt, though. It was real…somehow, he knew it. Charles was in pain…terrible pain. He didn't know if he really believed it…or if he just wanted it to be true…but he felt that, somehow, Charles had called to him from across a distance.

_I'm coming, Charles. I'll find you._

"How much further?" he asked the trucker in the driver's seat next to him. His contacts had ensured him a quick, inconspicuous ride cross-country. He would have preferred to travel alone, perhaps by motorbike, but being on the run from the CIA, he found himself in need of a somewhat less conspicuous mode of travel, so a contact had put him in touch with a group of truckers who wouldn't ask questions.

"Just a few hours," the man replied, keeping his eyes on the road. As such, Erik couldn't really see his expression when he asked, "Bad dreams?"

"You could say that," Erik said, glaring harshly out at the road.

"I could. You were tossin' and turnin' over there. Anything to do with that powerful need to get to Las Vegas?"

"Probably."

Erik had, of course, gone through all of Moira's information on Shaw the moment he'd joined them. Judging from that, he'd decided the best place to begin his search was in Las Vegas…at the central headquarters of the Hellfire Club.

He'd taken very little with him when he'd left New York, but one thing he still had in his bag was the uniform. If he'd left it, the others might realize he'd been there. One thing he'd say for the damn thing, it had kept him from getting too badly sunburned on his impromptu ocean voyage. It did feel good to be back in his own clothes again, though.

As the trucker had predicted, it only took them another two and a half hours to reach the neon city. Erik and the trucker parted ways around eleven p.m. and Erik made his way to the club on foot, where he was just in time to see Emma Frost enter the building.

At first, he couldn't believe his luck, but as he tailed her, he began to see there was something off about the way she moved. It was almost as if she wasn't used to her own body. The expression of cold indifference was the same, but there was just something off about the body language. Glaring, he quickly came up behind her.

"What are you doing here, Raven?" he demanded quietly, grabbing hold of her arm.

"Erik?" she couldn't quite keep herself from hissing.

"Frost doesn't move like that. Do your research."

"What do you want? I've never actually seen her before. Moira just showed me a picture. They sprung her from lock down."

"I figured they would. Now what are you doing here and where _is_ Moira?"

"See that booth?" she asked, nodding toward the other side of the crowded den. "Moira says it opens up into a secret room. She's already gone in. Erik…why did you leave?"

"As proven by the Cuba fiasco, I work better alone," he explained, beginning to move toward the indicated booth with Raven on his tail.

"Even without Charles?" Raven suggested. Erik froze just before entering the booth. Her tone was even, but he caught the hint of abandonment in it.

"Perhaps _he_ would be better off without _me_," he said, not actually answering her question. Wasting no more words, the two entered the booth together. Raven swung it around and they were led into a study, where Moira was waiting. Her only reaction to seeing Erik was a slight raising of the eyebrows.

"How did you get here before me?"

"Called in a few favors," Moira explained. "There's no one here now, but I was about to start a search if you'd care to join us."

Erik was about to snap back at her, but he was interrupted by the timely entrance of Azazel and Emma Frost. The real Frost raised an eyebrow upon spotting her double. "Good timing. Sebastian thought you might come here."

"Where's Charles?" Erik demanded. "What have you done with him?"

"We did not come for this," Azazel said, his tail twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"Sebastian wanted me to deliver a message to you…from Charles Xavier."

"He's all right?" Raven asked, shifting back to her natural form.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Emma said, taking a few steps toward Erik. "If you wouldn't mind…"

"Show me," Erik said, trying to steel himself for what he knew must be coming. An eerie smile took shape on Emma's face and his mind was instantly assaulted by that which he most feared.

"_Stop! Don't look."_

"_Please…please. It's mine…"_

_Charles…lying helpless on a cot as his memories were unlocked…his pain as Emma picked apart their intimacy._

He didn't fully understand what he was experiencing, but it almost felt as if Charles' mind was…melting.

"_The only one this is going to hurt…is you."_

_**Do you love me?**_

"_**Erik! Erik, I'm sorry! Please forgive me!**"_

_**I'm not like that…I'm not!**_

_**But I hurt him. Did…did I just…use him…?**_

It was horrible…and they hadn't even reached the worst of it.

_**Erik…my Erik…**_

"_Erik…help me. Please…**Erik**! **Save me**!"_

_There!_ The cry from his nightmare. Charles…in pain…crying out for his help. Unable to bear it anymore, he staggered back from Emma.

"_Nein!_" he shouted, briefly clutching his head in pain.

"You know, there's nothing quite like watching a telepath fall apart," she said smugly.

"What did you do to him?" he whispered.

"You _know_ what _I_ did…but it was Sebastian's decision to sedate him."

"Sedate…" Erik said slowly, uncomprehending. He had never had such a luxury under the good doctor's care. Why such a mercy from him?

"It _isn't_ merciful," Emma clarified as she shifted into diamond form. "In fact, it's probably one of the greater harms you can do a telepath. Sedation destroys the mental barriers, rendering the victim unable to maintain the boundaries of their own conscience. It didn't affect _us_, of course, but I saved a piece of his mind for you…to bleed into you. I thought you'd like that."

With a maddened shriek of rage, Erik tore every piece of metal in the room free and fired it at the telepath, but Azazel quickly moved her out of harm's way before returning to engage Erik in combat. His blades weren't of much use, but he certainly had other skills.

With Erik occupied, Emma turned her attention to the two women. Raven tried to approach, but Emma gave her a full stop command, turning her focus to Moira, who involuntarily took a step back.

"You…" she said slowly. "You've got some very interesting things in your mind…things you probably don't even know about."

Moira froze in place, feeling Emma's powers coming to focus on her. She could feel her look into her self…right into the heart of her…and she could feel something beginning to shift…to waken…and as the burning radiance of the telepath's powers enveloped her psyche, Moira screamed…her entire existence becoming nothing but pain.

_Awake._

"Moira!" Raven cried out, powerless under Emma's influence.

Something was changing…growing larger in her brain…threatening to devour her. When she felt like she couldn't take another second of the agony, a merciful darkness took her.

With her loss of consciousness, Emma finally released Moira's mind, allowing her to collapse limply to the floor. Then she turned to look at Raven with a pleased look on her face.

"She will be glorious to behold."

With that, she released Raven and the shape shifter ran straight to Moira, not even thinking about Erik. Gently, she lifted her into her arms.

"Moira? Moira! Talk to me, Moira. _Please_ be okay."

"We're done here," Emma called to Azazel, who sneered briefly at his metal-kine enemy.

"You want to find your lover boy? Remember what sets you free," the teleporter informed him before disappearing with Emma.

"NEIN!" Erik screamed, rendering every scrap of metal his power could sense into an unrecognizable slag. The room very nearly collapsed on them. Not taking the time to calm his rage, he went to Raven and pulled her away from Moira, demanding, "Is it permanent?"

"What?"

"You heard me! The effects of the sedation…_are they permanent?_" he shouted, shaking her harshly.

"N-no. They shouldn't be. O-only while the sedatives last," Raven answered, well and truly scared for the first time since Charles had taken her in. She'd only caught a glimpse of _this_ Erik once before…on the beach. "Erik…please. Moira needs help-"

"So help her," Erik snarled, flinging her down on top of Moira's prone form. "Stay and help your human friend…and leave Charles to _burn_! You didn't see what I saw, you foolish girl."

"Erik…" Raven pleaded with him as he stormed away. "Don't do this. Don't go."

"I have to do it," he responded without looking back, "because no one else can do what needs to be done."

As Erik exited through the den, rife with panicking, fleeing humans, he was met by the three mutant boys coming in to help.

"What have you done?" Beast demanded upon seeing him.

"What I had to," he replied, not even stopping for them. It was clear to him now that the answers he sought were not here. If he wanted to find Charles, he would have to solve Azazel's riddle.

_You want to find your lover boy? Remember what sets you free._

XxX

(A/N) Still going strong, I hope. A few notes for this chapter. Nein is German for 'no' (but you already knew that, you Lehnsherr-loving freaks ;). I see him slipping back into his native tongue when he's stressed out. If you've any guesses as to what's happening to Moira, let me just say that this version of the character is clearly not the one she's named after, so I don't feel particularly bad about taking a few liberties with her, just to see if it goes anywhere.


	4. Lock Me Up

(A/N) Hello, all. Pleased as always that the story is being enjoyed.

Response to concrit ahead: Oh, no, by all means, please critique me. How else will I improve? I love your ideas; I don't think you need to worry too much, though. There will be more scenes between Charles and Emma. He's nowhere near completely broken. I had thought about what you said when I was writing, but what I was aiming for was that his reactions were caused more by being drugged than anything else. There _is_ a reason for that, but maybe I didn't bring it across the right way. I also hadn't really meant strictly for Shaw to be comparing Charles to himself…more that he was playing on the fact that he was feeling guilty for leaving Erik hanging. Though, now that you mention it, I can certainly see working from that angle. Like I said, I love your ideas, and I hope you don't _mind_ if I work with them. I know I haven't planned as well for this story as I have for some others, but I guess I'm rushing things a bit…trying to get out as much as I can before I run out of steam…as is wont to happen with stories begun on the fly, like this one was. I guess we'll see what happens. You're probably also right about the slang thing. I don't rightly know. Maybe I've just been watching a little too much Sherlock lately. Eheh.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 4: Lock Me Up_

Charles didn't know how long they had him sedated. After Emma's assault, he'd been vaguely aware of being put on an I.V. drip, but he had no way of knowing how much time went by after that. His existence was a stream of swirling nightmares and half-remembered realities…mostly of Emma probing about in his head, slowly picking apart his most personal thoughts. When he finally came out of the drug's grip, he found himself alone in the cell with Shaw.

"No Emma today?" he asked, his throat hoarse…from what? Lack of water? Screaming?

"She's away on…business today. I've brought someone else for you to meet," he said, stepping aside to reveal a person behind him.

It was a little girl. She couldn't have been more than eight. Her skin was tan and her hair was brown, but her eyes were by far the oddest thing about this child: They were red. The irises were a startling, bloody hue of red.

"Charles Xavier, might I introduce you to Pele? Seven years old and already a telepath on par with yourself and Emma."

"A telepath?" Charles mumbled, briefly trying to see into the girl's mind and finding himself blocked.

"Emma's taught her well. She can shield her mind completely," Shaw explained, guessing what he'd tried to do. "Hers is a different sort of telepathy, though…at least, _she_ applies it differently."

"What do you mean?"

Smirking coldly, Shaw turned to the girl. "Pele…burn."

Turning her gaze from Shaw to Charles, she held up her hand, looked him in the eye, and said only, "Burn."

The next moment, Charles felt as if every nerve in his body had been set on fire. His body rolled from the cot to the floor, convulsing as he shrieked in agony…and as he lay there, burning, he felt nearly unfathomable rage, hate, and pain searing his very soul. Not his own, he realized…but Pele's.

He tried to call out to her, begging her to stop, but she was relentless…and he couldn't fight back against her; she was only a child, after all.

Charles didn't hear Shaw give Pele the command to stop, but he must have, because the screaming agony suddenly stopped, leaving him utterly drained. For a long while, he lay there, curled in on himself, trembling and drawing deep, shuddering breaths. When he was finally able to look up, he saw the girl standing over him. Weakly, he tried to reach out his hand to her.

"Pele…Pele…dear heart…is that your name?"

Pele's eyes flared briefly and Charles felt the burning again before Shaw placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Pele," he reprimanded, "a little restraint."

"What have you _done_ to her?" Charles demanded, feeling tears flow from his eyes, not for his own pain, but for what Pele must have suffered.

"Did you think Erik was the only one, Charles? He was the one that got away. Little Pele is my latest project. I learned with Erik that you have to start when they're young. Pele came into my care when she was four."

Charles could only shudder to think how Pele might have 'come into his care.' "Shaw…Pele is a _child_…an _innocent_…_child!_"

"Erik was a child, too. Do you really think that stops me…especially with a gift as powerful as hers?"

"What is it…that she did?" Charles finally asked, gazing sorrowfully at Pele, who was staring openly at him.

"The illusion of pain," Shaw explained, gently stroking the girl's hair. "Nothing's actually happening to you. It's all in your mind."

"Brought Pele out today, I see," Emma's voice came from the cell door. Charles glanced over in time to see her close it. Then the diamond woman came to kneel before the girl, looking her directly in the eyes.

As they stared at each other, Charles realized he could feel the child's walls coming down. He skirted around the edges of her conscience, not daring to go all the way in for fear of being violently thrown back out. He certainly could have _tried_ to control her in this moment of weakness, but he knew he could not. He couldn't do such a thing to this little girl who had already suffered so much pain…even if he suffered more for it in the end. What he could see, looking in now, was a baby whose mother had died in childbirth…and who had been coerced into killing her own father with her powers because he hadn't wanted Shaw to hurt his little girl. She had known nothing of love since then…and somehow, she'd survived. If there was a name other than Pele, it was buried deep…in a place he could not go.

"You poor girl," he whispered, silent tears streaming down his face.

"Shouldn't you be saving some of that pity for your Erik?" Emma asked as the girl's shields went back up.

Charles froze, his gaze darting to the woman's crystalline eyes.

"What have you done?"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than his psyche was awash with pain…not the burning kind Pele could induce, but emotional pain…_Erik's_ pain.

Emma had shown him what they'd been doing to him…and every moment of his own agony had been given back to Erik twofold. He could feel Erik's own pain as his broken mind was poured into his. From moment to moment, they would both break anew, each fueled by the other's suffering.

"_**Nein!**__"_

_NO!_

Charles let his head fall back to the floor, curling in on himself once more. He was physically and mentally exhausted…and all he could feel was the hurt he'd caused Erik.

_My fault…my fault…all my fault. They'll never stop using us against each other…_

_You think this is pain?_ A new voice was suddenly in his head. Realizing it could only be one person, he stole a glance up at Pele. Her expression could only be described as contemptuous.

_You do not __**know**__ pain._

XxX

Raven, Beast, Havok, and Banshee had managed to evacuate Moira from the ruins of the Hellfire Club without too much trouble during the chaos following Erik's meltdown. Her friend, a Scotsman named Alisdair Kinross, who had flown them out in his plane, had tried to convince them to let him take her to a hospital, but Beast had insisted their facilities in New York were better than any doctor's. Besides, they all doubted Moira's ailment was something human medical science could deal with. So Kinross had flown them straight back to Westchester. He hadn't asked any further questions, only requested that they take care of her. So they'd gotten her back to the mansion and Beast had started working that same night.

"Her brainwaves are surging," Beast reported tensely to the others the next afternoon, having worked all through the night. "There's no sign of consciousness, but her brain's working overtime. Whatever it's up to, it's like it can't support any normal activity…just this one task."

"But what did Frost _do_ to her?" Raven grated, still feeling horribly guilty for not being able to protect Moira when she'd been standing _right there_.

"I couldn't say with any certainty yet," Beast said, briefly going back through his notes. "But if I didn't know better, I'd say her brainwave patterns were starting to become similar to…the professor."

"You mean…she's _mutating_?" Raven asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"Frost can actually _do_ that?" Havok asked, his mind clearly blown.

"I couldn't say," Beast repeated. "If that's what it is, it couldn't possibly be the ability to telepathically induce mutation at will. The mutation would already have to be present in the genetic code…just dormant…not yet manifested."

"So…she might have been a mutant…this whole time?" Banshee asked, glancing over at Moira, who was lying under a blanket on a diagnostic table with several sensors attached to her head.

"We won't know until she wakes up," Beast said, knowing they were all afraid that 'until' may well be 'unless.'

"You did good, Beast," Raven said after several minutes of silence. "You ought to go and get some sleep now."

"If she doesn't get a break, I don't get one," he said, standing up to head back to work.

Suddenly sick to death of everything falling apart around her, Raven decided to take charge, leaping up and grabbing Beast's shoulder.

"Hank, getting no sleep isn't going to help her. You'll only be at your best if you get some sleep. I know it feels like you're not doing anything, but they _need_ us to be at our best, all of them: Moira, Charles…even Erik. Okay?"

"O-okay," Beast mumbled, looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

"Don't worry. I'll sit with her, and if anything changes, I'll let you know."

"All right," he said quietly before heading out of the lab, still not quite sure of what had happened. Raven, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside Moira, sitting down. She sat in silence for a few minutes before turning to look at the other two boys.

"Well? Are you going to stare all day or are you going to make some lunch?"

"Uh…yeah…" Banshee murmured.

"Sure thing…" Havok finished. Neither boy was anymore certain of what change had just occurred than Beast was.

"Don't worry," Raven said to the comatose agent after the boys had gone. "I'll whip them into shape for when you get back. It's going to take all of us to get those two home."

XxX

_He's standing in the office again. Expecting a memory, he looks down at his hands, but finds that they are the hands of a grown man…not a helpless child. When he looks up, it's Shaw he sees…not Schmidt…holding the gun. What's going on here?_

"_Now this is what we will do," he begins in perfect English. "I count to three, and you move the coin. If you do **not** move the coin, I'll pull the trigger. Do you understand?"_

_There's the coin, lying there on the desk…as it always has been…and always will be. He should be able to move it now; he's grown much stronger. Maybe he'll be able to make a difference this time? Casually, he holds up a hand to summon the coin to him…but it remains on the desk._

_What is this? What's happening? All of his power…where is it? One little coin? It should be nothing…and yet it remains firmly on the desk…mocking him._

_He tries harder…extends both hands. Still nothing._

"_One."_

_No! It's going to happen again. He can't let it! He has to save his mother! Only…when he turns to look at her…as he did back then…it's not his mother standing there, held at gunpoint by the Nazis._

_It's Charles._

_His throat instantly goes dry as the horror builds in his chest. They're going to kill him, too! He can't let them. Not him…**anyone** but him._

_Except…Charles doesn't seem frightened…not even worried. He smiles warmly at him._

"_You can do it," he reassures him. His faith in him is absolute._

"_Two."_

_Frantically, he turns back to the coin. Charles is right. He can do it. He **must**! He can't let Charles die!_

_And yet…for all his struggle to call the little scrap of metal to him…it remains in place. He's as helpless as he was when he was a child. He's going to lose him. He's going to **lose** him! _

_**Please…God, please…move!**_

"_It's all right," Charles says. "It's all right."_

_No! He can't say that. He **mustn't** say it! Erik knows what comes after that._

"_Three."_

_He turns as the gun fires…sees the bullet strike him…he doesn't even cry out. He simply drops to the floor. _

"_Nein!"_

_The room fades away around him as he runs to the fallen man, quickly gathering him in his arms. Blood is leaking from between his lips, but he's somehow still breathing._

"_It's all right," he whispers, smiling as he reaches up to stroke his hair._

"_Bitte…Bitte…Charles…"_

"_I believe in you," he says as the light leaves his eyes._

"_Nein! Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben!"_

_But it's too late. He's gone. Those blue eyes will never offer him their warmth…ever again. They're cold and empty. _

_**I…I never ****told**** him…**_

"Nein!" Erik shouted, bolting awake from the nightmare in a cold sweat. Several of his fellow passengers were startled by the outburst, but when he gave no further indication that anything was amiss, they all went back to their own business.

Erik was aboard a tramp steamer outbound from San Francisco to Hong Kong. From there, he would hop another up to London and go from there.

Being on the run, he didn't have access to any of his usual funds or most of his contacts. With those options gone, this was really the only way to travel. As his status as a fugitive from justice could only hamper his search while he was still on U.S. soil, he'd decided it would be best to return to Europe to continue. If he needed to return later, he would, but for now, he needed to stay a few steps ahead of his pursuers. The only way to do this was as he'd done in the old days…with his guts and his powers.

The dream…the _nightmare_…he'd experienced it before. Remembering his mother's murder…of _course_ he couldn't let it go…but to suddenly see Charles in place of his mother…what did that mean?

_Are you really foolish enough to become so attached to something after __**that**__ loss?_ He could hear Shaw's voice asking in his head. _What happens to __**you**__ if I kill him?_

"I'll die," he whispered to himself. _I'll kill your sorry ass…then I'll die._ There would simply be no reason left to go on living.

But…was Charles really worth that? Was he worth hanging his existence…his very soul on?

That was when Erik realized it was far too late for that sort of thinking.

_Absolutely…inescapably…_he answered himself. He had seen how he viewed Charles through the man's own eyes. Emma hadn't given him only the bad from Charles' fragmented mind. She hadn't been able to keep back all the good that was there.

He'd seen himself smiling at Charles…on many different occasions. He'd never smiled…not since before the war…but Charles had worked and worked on him…given him cause to feel real happiness. He saw his face as Charles awoke the old memories in him…gave him back the things he'd thought lost…and he felt Charles' joy as he opened up.

He watched himself as they moved together on Charles' bed…feeling the intensity of their combined emotions…then the sudden fear…the confusion. He hadn't realized at the time how deeply he'd been hurt by Charles' uncertainty. That was why he'd been uncertain of his own feelings…because he'd been afraid of that pain. It wasn't that he didn't know how he felt; he _knew_, but he was terrified those feelings were not returned.

_I __**need**__ you…I need you in order to live…_

He understood what that meant now. Charles…made him _more_ than what he was…made him_ better_. If this was not love, he didn't know what else could be. Losing Charles would not make him stronger, as Shaw hoped. In the end, it would only kill him. Perhaps he would burn brighter for an infinitesimal moment…like a star going super nova…but then he would collapse in on himself…bringing more destruction in his wake than a black hole.

But…maybe that was what Shaw _wanted_.

XxX

It was two days before Moira regained consciousness. Raven sat with her that entire time, allowing no one else to take her place. When the CIA agent awoke, it was to Raven's hand on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw the young woman asleep in a chair. Slowly, she reached up her own hand to touch the blue one on her shoulder. Raven instantly started awake.

"Moira?"

"Hey."

"My _God_, you had us all so worried. You've been out of it for a while. How are you feeling?" she asked, gripping Moira's hand.

"A little woozy, I guess. What…what did Frost do to me?" she asked, reaching up to try and feel the sensors on her head.

"We're not…really sure," Raven started slowly, not sure how to break the news to Moira. "Beast says your brainwave patterns are…similar to Charles' now."

"What…does that mean?" Moira asked, a suspicion slowly starting to grow in her eyes.

"Moira…we…think you might be a mutant."

For a moment, it didn't sink in. But then…

"But…how…" she struggled to get out, slowly sitting up. Several of the sensors fell away and Beast's machines began to beep incessantly.

"It doesn't always manifest right away. We think…Frost might have done it with her powers…telepathically stimulated the dormant code. Like I said, we're not sure. Maybe…if you're like Charles…you could try reading my mind," Raven suggested hesitantly.

"You would…let me do that?" Moira asked, knowing how uncomfortable she'd been with the thought of Charles reading her mind.

Raven nodded. "We have to know."

Shaking her head, unable to see how it was possible, Moira stared at Raven, concentrating on her forehead and feeling ridiculous. After a time, she shook her head again.

_Nothing._

At this, Raven gasped.

"What?" Moira asked, confused.

"I…I _heard_ that. You just said 'nothing'."

"I…did," Moira murmured, her hands dropping weakly to her sides. "What…what is this?"

"Maybe…maybe it's some sort of low-level telepathy?"

Not really sure what to say, Moira suddenly got the strangest image in her head: Beast standing over a stove flipping pancakes.

"Beast is going to make pancakes," she said automatically.

Raven blinked several times, not quite sure she'd heard right. "Say what?"

Before Moira could even try to explain herself, Havok walked into the lab.

"Hey, Moira!" he said, stopping short. "You're awake. You okay?"

"I'm…surviving," she replied.

"That's good. Beast'll probably want to run some tests. I was just coming to tell Mystique he's going to make pancakes if you guys want some."

At this, both women turned to stare at each other in shock.

What did this mean?

XxX

(A/N) Still workin' for ya? Again, I've got a few notes. If I've done my job right, the words Erik was saying earlier were, 'Please…please…' and 'I can't live without you.'

On the subject of Emma and Moira...yeah, Emma Frost has apparently been known to do that. Interesting, ne?

As for my little OC, I have no idea if there's really a mutant called Pele, or if anyone has a power like hers, but if anybody else knows, feel free to enlighten me. I guess I just didn't really think Shaw would stop with Erik.


	5. Throw Away the Key

(A/N) Thank you all for your continuing support. Gotta say, it feels really awesome. I'm also glad to see you all seem to be receiving Pele well. While she's not in this chapter, she will certainly be playing more of a roll in the future. Also, I imagine you're all expecting this sort of thing since the story's rated M and all, but I should warn you that this chapter does involve rape.

Response to AnonymouslyAnonymous: Heheh, don't worry. I kind of got the feeling that's what you meant.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 5: Throw Away the Key_

Charles knew his captors were starving him. They still brought him water from time to time, but hardly any food…and he was starting to feel the effects of hunger.

Even though he still had the strength to resist Emma, he knew he couldn't. If he tried to resist, they would just drug him again, and he would have no control over himself in that state: all his mental discipline…gone…torn away from him. After that experience, he'd decided it would be best to just endure whatever Emma did to him. He could bear it…and she would have less to use against Erik.

So, in order to prepare for further visits from Emma and to help his body cope with the encroaching hunger pangs, he'd prepared himself a mediation space in a small corner of his mind, withdrawing from his surroundings when it became necessary. His space mimicked the library back at home, where he and Erik had spent so many happy hours. Here, he could visualize safety and comfort, and hopefully brace himself against what was still to come.

Currently, he was sitting at the chess table fiddling with the king piece, remembering the last time he and Erik had been here.

"Hello, Charles," Emma's voice suddenly broke into his thoughts. He looked up to see her sitting in the chair across from him…_Erik's_ chair.

"Hello, Miss Frost," he said, casually setting the chess piece back on the board. "How are things on the outside?"

"Business as usual. Erik's tearing the globe apart looking for you," she said, picking up Erik's king piece and eyeing it with interest.

Feeling at once elated and troubled, Charles didn't actually dignify the jibe with a response. Instead, he asked, "How's Pele?"

Emma laughed. "You shouldn't worry about _her_, Professor. Pele is Pele. She'll survive. I daresay she'll become more powerful than either of us."

Charles shook his head. "I don't see how you can do such things to a little girl."

"Such things? You don't know what we did to her. Only Pele knows that. Besides, it's what most of us went through as children. If she can't face it, she won't survive. Though…_you_ never did go through any of this," Emma said, eyeing him slyly.

"I had my own trials," he said, looking past her.

"What? Mummy didn't love you? Most of us would have killed to only have a problem like that." When she'd finished speaking, Emma began to suck on the chess piece. The noises she made as she slid it in and out of her mouth were so obscene, Charles couldn't help but turn his gaze back to her, his face clouded with disgust. Once she'd thoroughly coated the king in her own saliva, she set it back down on the board. "I could _give_ you a problem, you know."

"What? More probing?" he asked contemptuously.

"Something like that," Emma said, her typical cold smile in place.

Charles didn't see the change happen; it simply…did. One minute, Emma was sitting in front of him; the next, it was Erik, smirking gently. Unable to help it, he felt his body react slightly to the sight of the other man…but he also felt a deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Giving you…a _problem_," she said in Erik's voice, standing and walking over to him, leaning over him as he continued to sit passively in his chair. The doppelganger placed its hands on the armrests, pinning him securely between the chair and herself. Then she leaned in and began to kiss him.

_Don't fight,_ he reminded himself, though he had to struggle not to. _Don't fight. It will only be worse if you fight. Think of Erik…the __**real**__ Erik. You can bear this…for him._

"Like it?" the false Erik whispered against his lips. Charles closed his eyes, attempting to block out the sight.

"I know…you are _not_ Erik Lehnsherr," he said firmly. "You are _not_ my friend. You are _not_ the man I…" He couldn't bring himself to say the word…not to her. If he was going to say these words, he wanted to say them to Erik…even if he knew she could just read the thoughts in his head.

"What? The man you _love_?" Erik-who-was-not suggested coyly. "Go on, Charles…say it. Tell me you love me."

"I…I…" Charles mumbled, struggling with his voice. Rationally, he _knew_ this was not Erik, but that didn't matter. Emma had complete access to his mind. Every precious memory of Erik was hers to manipulate as she chose. Right now, he could have sworn up and down he smelled Erik's scent on his skin…tasted him on his lips. He was here with him even now.

"No," he groaned. "I won't…you won't take it from me…" If he could hold on to nothing else, he would hold on to this.

"Heh, then you know I'll _have_ to," he/she said, smiling Erik's smile as he/she knelt before him.

_Don't fight…don't resist…just let it happen,_ he repeated the mantra to himself, closing his eyes again as Emma laid him bare.

He didn't _want_ to feel anything, but he couldn't help it. Emma's consciousness was mingling with his, thrusting into the part of his mind where Erik lived, tearing open tender memories and violently forcing them on him. She called up every touch…every kiss…made him feel them all again as she worked at him, perverting their sweetness with her uncaring fingers.

"No…" he couldn't quite help whimpering. "_Please_…don't touch them…"

"Would you like to see what's _really_ happening?" he/she asked, looking up from him. Charles felt a moment of searing horror before the other telepath pulled them both out of his mind.

Emma was on top of him. His uniform had been torn open down the front and she was moving vigorously above him, her diamond fingers tearing into his skin in the places where she gripped his arms. His knee-jerk response would have been to shove her away, but he found himself cuffed to the cot. Turning his head slightly to the side, he found Shaw standing there, smirking lasciviously as he watched them.

"Enjoying it, Professor?" he asked with a wink. "She tells me you're quite the lady's man."

Using the moment of horror-stricken distraction, Emma seized the memory of his climax with Erik…squeezing and forcing the wonderful sensation through his entire being. He cried out just as much in pain as completion as Emma finished him off.

Emma continued the motions a few moments more, riding out her own climax before smirking down at him.

"I can see why he'd open up for you. You _are_ good," she said with a wink of her own.

Charles had no words. He could only stare up at the ice queen in shock. She had taken the most beautiful memory he had…and sullied it…like this. She'd…he'd been…he couldn't even bring himself to think the word.

_I was…I was…_

"Raped?" Emma supplied viciously as she came to unlock his cuffs. "Now you know what it feels like to be the woman, Charles."

Charles didn't move when he was free…hardly even blinked. He could barely comprehend it. It hadn't been enough for her to violate him spiritually and mentally…she had to do it physically, too. Was there any piece left of him this woman hadn't stained with her touch?

Suddenly feeling sick…sickened by himself…he rolled onto his side and vomited up what little remained in his stomach.

"Aw, the poor kid's not feeling well," Shaw said, coming toward him and bending down over the cot, leaning in to give Charles a chaste kiss on the forehead. Charles didn't even react; he was still too much in shock.

The tears didn't come until after they'd gone, his quiet sobs echoing slightly in the bare cell. He was pretty thoroughly disgusted with himself. He had it in him to be rational…and part of him _knew_ this wasn't his fault…but it had still happened.

Was it because he was weak…helpless without his powers?

"Erik…Erik…" he whispered over and over again, each time an apology. It seemed there was just no way to stop them using him as a weapon against the other man. Emma had torn open his soul and left it bleeding…and one way or another, it would lead to Erik's destruction.

_Erik…please…where are you? There's something I have to tell you…_

XxX

During the week following her awakening, Moira found herself predicting things left and right. During the day, it was mostly mundane things, such as what items would be lost and recovered, and whether food would be burned or not. She tried not to let it distract her from researching leads about their absent friends' whereabouts, but it wasn't easy.

And the nights were even harder.

Moira would wake in the night in a cold sweat, her mind suffocating under images she couldn't understand. She saw an old man in a wheelchair and another in a helmet. She couldn't say, but she thought they looked familiar. She saw a woman on fire…a man with glowing eyes…another with claws of steel. She saw a young girl with a streak of white in her hair…like an old woman…and another whose hair was all white. She saw a child of ice and a child of fire…a young man with blue skin…like Raven's. For a moment, he seemed to smile at her, but then she felt something torn away from her and the kind young man's face was replaced with Azazel's, smirking at her. She saw a child with a bow and arrow…and that same child on a motorbike with the steel man. She could see Raven lying helpless on the floor, convulsing as her body changed form…but there was something different about this change. There was Raven again…holding a tiny blue child and smiling tenderly. The young man? Next came a little girl with softly glowing white skin. Then she saw Shaw holding that child…just a baby. She thought she saw Charles, but it couldn't be him. No living creature had ever looked so horrible…so ravaged…so _enraged_. She saw Erik pulling Charles' broken body to him…whispering something. She saw Erik…drowning. She saw Emma Frost holding a little girl…then the girl with the bow and arrows holding her. There was Erik holding the little girl…screaming in agony, but refusing to let go. So many faces…so many voices…

"_Are mutants dangerous?"_

"_I will give you hope…"_

"_You're not an animal."_

"_I just touched him…"_

"_You've fought well, my beautiful creations, but this child is mine now."_

"_You should have killed me when you had the chance!"_

"_**What have you done?**"_

"_This is the only way."_

"_**One day…someone will finish what I've started!**"_

"_The truth is…I don't care what you think of me. I don't need your precious **powers**. I am more than enough to protect Dana."_

_**Do you feel this pain?**_

"_Get out of my head!"_

"_It ain't like that, kid. I'm gonna take you somewhere safe."_

"_It's going to be your job to protect your baby sister. Can you promise me that?"_

"_Come back, Charles! I'm all right! **I'm all right!**"_

"_Because we shouldn't have to."_

"_Ich liebe dich! Ich liebe dich! Bitte stirb nicht! Bitte!"_

"_ERIK!"_

"_Do you really think this will make Charles happy?"_

"_**You dare harm what's mine?**"_

"_Hundreds, maybe **thousands** of people…"_

"_I did it for you…"_

"_Mystique. Just Mystique…because it's the name I chose for myself."_

"_Erik…my Erik…"_

All of these nightmares keeping her and everyone else awake at night had prompted Raven to invite her to share her room, knowing that a roommate could be helpful when the nightmares got to be too much. So it was on the seventh night after the awakening that Raven woke to find Moira at her desk, feverishly writing in an old notebook of hers.

"What are you doing?" she asked, speaking well in advance of actually coming to stand behind her so she might have fair warning.

"These things I keep seeing, I just…I have to record them all," she reported nervously, seemingly unable to stop writing. She just barreled on through. "I can't understand them now, but…maybe someday, I will. I want to know what this is…I have to."

"But you'll make yourself sick," Raven insisted, trying in vain to get her to come back to bed.

"I just…I keep seeing faces…so many faces," Moira mumbled despairingly, still unable to stop the pen in her hand from writing.

"Raven! Moira!" Beast shouted as he burst into the room. "Come see the news! Something's happening in London!"

"It's Erik," Moira said with total certainty, looking up from the notebook as she finally laid the pen down.

XxX

Erik didn't know whether to say it was late at night or early in the morning when the ship arrived in Britain. It was the sort of darkness where you couldn't tell if the dawn was about to break or if you still had several hours of night left. Whatever the case, he was just pleased to be nearing land again.

It had taken a little more than a week to complete the journey. Hong Kong had been a little difficult in that Chinese was one language he didn't speak a word of, but as the city was still mostly British-controlled, he'd been able to find some English-speaking underground channels. Erik was among a group of Chinese and Korean immigrants being shuttled from the ship on a smaller tugboat. The tug had traveled safely up the Thames and was just within sight of London when the lights of another boat appeared in the darkness.

"This is the Thames Division," a voice announced over a bullhorn. "Do not attempt to move your vessel. We have intelligence that this vessel is carrying a felon wanted by the American authorities. You will submit yourself to search."

Well, there went that plan. He'd stand out a mile in this crowd if they didn't already have his picture, which they probably did. Erik broke free of the group of frightened immigrants. One of the crewmen had already been approaching him. He felt the bullets begin to fire the moment he made a run for it, but he easily deflected them. When he reached the guardrail, he ripped a piece of it free, grabbing hold of it as he dove into the river.

Thankfully, the torn section of railing provided almost no resistance against the water, so Erik could use his power to propel it through the water at a brisk enough pace to get a head start on his pursuers.

They continued to fire on him after he'd left the tug, firing into the water, even. A useless effort, of course. The Americans had probably neglected to mention that their fugitive was impervious to pretty much every weapon in their arsenal.

Erik traveled underwater as long as he was able before surfacing for air. He briefly noted that the sky was beginning to lighten as he sped through the water. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever, though, so he extended the range of his powers, feeling out bits of metal on the shore and sending whatever he could flying at the police boats chasing him, essentially tearing up the riverbanks as he went.

He couldn't shake them; he knew that. He didn't have that kind of endurance yet. But there were other things he could take advantage of. As he moved, he began to scope out the structures he was passing. None of them would do; they were still mostly old style and constructed mainly of stone.

The first thing he came to that would suit his purpose was none other than the Tower Bridge. This contraption had enough metal in its structure for him to take advantage of. Using the broken piece of railing to stabilize himself, he used his power to levitate directly from the water up onto the bridge. A steady flow of morning traffic was already clogging it.

"Do not run!" the man with the bullhorn advised from the deck of the boat now below him. "If you do not surrender now, we are authorized to use deadly force!"

Erik almost laughed. What did these fools think they could do against him? Perhaps they were telling themselves he hadn't _really_ deflected their fire…that he hadn't _really_ outrun them on a piece of broken guardrail. Heh, they were all so blind. Now, however, was not the time to be thinking about the inferiority of these humans. He was about to perform his greatest feat to date…even greater than the satellite or the submarine.

At first, the image he sought was the memory of his mother and the menorah…and the memory of her death, but just as quickly, he realized that was no longer enough. This was no longer the point in his heart where his rage…his serenity…stemmed from.

The image he called up instead was a memory of Charles…a mental picture he carried with him. It was an image of the younger man smiling at him, his blue eyes overflowing with the warmth he cherished so fiercely…a warmth that filled him up even now in the cold morning air…a bright and vibrant memory. It was his greatest happiness.

_I love you, Charles. I love you so much…but I'm going to lose you…_

There…that was it…the point between his love for Charles…and his fear of losing him. _That_ was his greatest strength; and it was as this moment of clarity washed over him that the bridge broke free of its supports. The entire thing lifted slowly into the air, the stone façade falling away from the superstructure and tumbling into the river. Erik was certain there must have been hundreds of terrified humans running and screaming all around him, but he was deaf to it all. It took a great deal of his concentration to keep the entire bridge suspended off the ground.

The next thing he became aware of was a helicopter flying in toward the bridge, coming to face off with him, apparently. Another officer with a bullhorn was soon hanging out of the craft's side door.

"You there! Put the bridge down now!"

Erik smirked to himself, certain the man had never imagined he'd say anything like that during his lifetime and was probably feeling more than a little ridiculous.

"Let's make a deal!" he shouted toward the helicopter, using the metal around him to amplify the acoustics of his own voice. "You _know_ you can't shoot me. Just let me go my own way…and I'll put your little bridge back down. Nobody has to get hurt!"

Erik didn't have the opportunity to see whether or not his offer was considered, because that was the moment he felt the prick of a dart in his neck. Furiously, he ripped the carrier dart from the vein and found himself holding an empty plastic tranquilizer dart.

"Im – possible," he hissed, managing to crush the dart in his hand before losing consciousness…and losing control of the bridge.

The collapse of the Tower Bridge was such a horrific sight, not one person took notice of a red man with a tail vanishing from the roof of a nearby building.

XxX

(A/N) Confused yet? Don't worry. We'll get to hear more about what just happened in the next chapter. As for notes, unless you feel like going for a translator, I think I'm going to keep what Moira heard in her vision to myself. Hopefully, it's plain who said the line in question, but I guess we'll see.


	6. A Broken Key

(A/N) Still loving the support; thank you all. Let's see if you continue to find Pele interesting or even like her after this chapter.

Response to ALPein: I wouldn't worry too much. I think we all secretly have such fetishes. Heheh, would we be here otherwise?

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 6: A Broken Key_

The time between their sessions was starting to seem longer, but Charles really couldn't be sure. The line between what was real and what was hallucinated was starting to blur. Sometimes he was certain he was alone. Other times he found himself whispering to Erik as if he could actually hear him…he could almost swear he was actually there with him, holding him…gently stroking his hair and comforting him. But then he would look up, only to find Shaw or Emma there instead, smiling mockingly. This would send him into a horrified stupor for what felt like hours. There was nowhere he could turn…no place he could find refuge from his tormentors…not even in his own thoughts…his own dreams. Every moment, they were there…haunting him…_mocking_ him…telling him how hollow his life was now.

It was in a rare moment of clarity, where Charles found himself sitting up on the cot, his senses briefly sharpened by hunger, that Emma and Shaw entered the cell. Emma was wheeling a television set.

"What do you want?" he whispered hoarsely, not looking at either of them.

"I thought you might like to see what's on the news," Shaw said, his ever-present smile a little bigger than usual. "You spend so much time by yourself down here, I thought you should have a taste of what's going on in the outside world." Having said so, Shaw nodded to Emma and she switched the machine on. For a moment, Charles saw the BBC logo, then the words 'Breaking News' flashed on the screen before a reporter appeared, beginning to speak in a slightly shell-shocked tone.

"Once again, we bring you today's top story. Tower Bridge has collapsed. Again, Tower Bridge has collapsed. Authorities are still struggling to explain this morning's bizarre events. A near-tsunami force wave apparently tore down the Thames around six A.M., destroying bank-side property and injuring and killing several bystanders. Then the wave reached the bridge, where the structure was seemingly lifted free of its supports for several minutes before collapsing back into the river. Reports are still coming in, but the current estimate is that hundreds…maybe thousands…of people are missing, injured, or dead. Authorities state-"

As the words entered his ears, Charles saw footage of the collapsing bridge…hundreds of people jumping…many trapped…all desperate to escape. He couldn't make anything out in the grainy footage, but he knew who must be there.

"Is he alive?" were the first words out of his mouth, barely able to speak as his throat tightened up.

"Very much so. The river police fished him out of the water after the collapse. He's in their custody now; they'll turn him over to the CIA. But did you hear? Hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of people…all at our Erik's hands. He's becoming more powerful by the minute…and it's all thanks to you."

At first, Charles couldn't believe it…_wouldn't_ believe it. Erik couldn't have done this. He wouldn't intentionally kill so many innocent people…would he? Perhaps…the strain had simply been too much and he'd lost control? But…he had seen into his heart…seen the hate and the rage that dwelt there. What if his influence hadn't been enough? What if it was true? What if Erik's quest to save him…ultimately caused Charles to lose him…and the life they might have shared?

"I told you he was tearing the globe apart looking for you," Emma taunted him. "It only gets worse from here on in."

_Erik…what have you done?_

XxX

_He's back in the sub. He knows the moment…he should be facing Shaw now…without the helmet…frozen under Charles' power. He'd known exactly what he'd planned to do in this moment…but it had never happened. Why is he here now?_

_**Because you must know what it is you meant to do…and understand how what you are becoming will only hurt him.**_

_As his eyes snap into focus, he realizes with sickening horror that it's not Shaw he's facing…but Charles. _

"_No! Don't do this! Erik!" he pleads. He's holding his fingers to his temple, as if he's trying to get into his head. Why can't he?_

_That's when Erik realizes **he's** the one wearing the helmet._

"_This is what we're going to do," he begins. He feels his lips move…hears the words come from his mouth…but he hasn't spoken them. He **can't** have. What's happening?_

"_No…please, Erik, no…" the telepath continues to plead, his eyes full of fear. What is he afraid of? Erik would never hurt him. He…he **can't**._

"_I'm going to count to three and I'm going to move the coin. One."_

_As the old coin begins to move lazily though the air, he begins to understand._

"_**Please**, Erik," he whispers. There are tears in his eyes now. He's frozen in place, as if held by his own power. Why won't he move? Why won't he **run**?_

"_Two." _

_He sees it happening…but he can't stop it. He tries. He tries **so hard**…but the coin just won't stop. It continues its inexorable path toward Charles' forehead._

_**No…no…please, no…not him!**_

"_Erik…" Charles whispers one last time…before it's too late…before there's no turning back._

"_Three."_

_The coin penetrates slowly, drilling unerringly through skin, muscle, and bone, entering into grey matter and slowly destroying the brilliant, beautiful mind within. Erik feels himself dying as Charles' screams fill his ears. He knows, beyond doubt, that this sight and this sound will be with him forever. He can never forget the sight of himself…killing the only person he's ever loved._

"_Charles!_" Erik shouted as he snapped from his drugged sleep.

"Who's Charles?" a cold Irish voice asked. Erik looked up to find himself seated across a table from two policemen. He noticed his hands were bound and quickly tried to get a feel for the cuffs, but soon realized it was rope he was bound with. Huh…maybe they weren't so stupid, after all.

"None of your damn business!" he shot back at the first officer.

"It might be…if it explains why you just killed hundreds of people."

"That wasn't me," he insisted. "If one of your men hadn't fired on me with a tranquilizer gun, we could all be about our business right now."

"That wasn't us," the second officer told him, his voice heavy with a Scottish accent. "We don't know what happened. Maybe we just had a good Samaritan."

"A good Samaritan who caused me to lose my focus and drop a bridge," Erik bit back. He already had an explanation as to what had happened to him. Shaw. Who else would know to prepare a plastic tranquilizer gun to use against him?

"How did you do that, by the way?" the second man asked, his eyebrows raising in interest.

"The CIA told us about this one, James. He's some sort of freak. I've been hearing a lot of them were involved in that Cuba business last week."

The second officer had the decency to look uncomfortable with his partner's choice of words, but Erik didn't really notice. He'd stopped listening after the word 'freak.' He sent his powers into the interrogation room around him and found the structure to be mostly metal. They'd had the sense to bind him with rope and sit him in a wooden chair, but that was about the best they could do. Obviously, they didn't realize the extent of his powers.

"Yes, gentlemen," he began, interrupting the first officer's tirade. "I'm a freak. I'm the freakiest freak you've ever seen. I'm also the freak who's going to walk out of this building right now, so I suggest you stand aside if you want to live awhile longer."

"But…how can you? We've got you tied down," the officer called James said nervously. Erik laughed.

"You think I need my hands to use my freak powers? No. You could chop them off for all I care." True, it was _harder_ without the use of his hands, but he could still do it. That was what mattered.

"Do you really think we're going to let you just walk out of here?" the first officer demanded, his face reddening in rage. "You sank one of our boats this morning, freak! Two of my best mates died today and you're going to pay for it!"

"Then they should have known better than to try and stand in my way."

"Michael, maybe you shouldn't provoke him," James said, resting a calming hand on the man's shoulder.

"What's he going to do? Crush me with his 'freak powers?' He's helpless."

"Fool!" Erik spat in his face. "Tempt not a desperate man. I can easily walk out of here, so we can do this one of two ways. Either you let me leave and nobody gets hurt, like I promised before…or you try and stop me and you both die anyway."

"If you could do that, you would have done it already."

Growling in frustration, Erik shook his head. "Fine then."

With that, Erik ripped the door free of its hinges, sending it flying over their heads and smashing into the opposite wall. Then several support beams tore free from within the walls. For a moment, both men looked utterly shocked, but then their training kicked in and they went for their guns, which almost instantly fell apart in their hands. Relishing their attempts to hide their fear, Erik easily summoned up a piece of the broken door hinge and manipulated it around to his back, using it as a makeshift blade to saw through his bonds. Brushing aside the rope, he stood from the table and walked past the two downed officers.

"I'd like to kill you, Michael," he called over his shoulder. "But I'm in a bit of a hurry, so count yourself lucky. Anyone else want to try it?" he shouted to the station beyond the gutted interrogation room.

As per their training, many of the officers came forward to try and subdue him, but in short order, they were all flung back by the metal in their uniforms. A wave of flying humans preceded Erik as he strode through the station, tearing away huge chunks of the framework just for spite.

When he finally reached the street out front of the station, no one dared to stop him.

XxX

It wasn't particularly hard for Moira to get in touch with her friend again. Really, Alistair was just pleased to find out she'd pulled through. So pleased, in fact, he'd offered to fly them over to London…and to continue with them on their mission, should they need his help.

None of them were truly surprised to find the police station in ruins when they arrived the next evening. They hadn't really expected the British authorities to be able to hold Erik any better than the American or Soviet ones had. All they were really hoping was to find some clue as to where he'd gone. As such, they were all extremely pleased when Moira happened to know one of the officers who'd witnessed the attack.

"James!" she called out to him, boldly crossing the police line into the scene of the disaster.

"Moira?" he called back, not seeming to believe his eyes when he saw her coming toward him. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I'm still with the CIA," she half-lied as the rest of the group approached behind her, Raven in her human guise and Beast in a rather large trench coat. "My team is investigating the whereabouts of Erik Lehnsherr."

"Well…as you might have heard, you won't find him here," James said, motioning his head back toward the decimated station. "He just…tore out. There's no other way to describe it. Moira…the things this man can do…"

"I know. I've seen it. Though…he didn't say anything at all about where he was going?"

James shook his head. "He just went on about the fact that he could break right out and that we shouldn't try to stop him. The only thing that really stood out in my mind was when he said…'tempt not a desperate man'."

"Shakespeare," Beast clarified for the rest of them. "Romeo and Juliet, Act 5, Scene 3…one of Romeo's lines before entering Juliet's tomb to commit suicide."

"Oddly prophetic," Moira said after several moments of silence.

"God, I hope not," Raven said quietly.

"How long are you in London for? If you need a place to stay, you could crash at my flat for a while. I'd have to ask Michael, but-"

"Who's Michael?" Moira asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, my flatmate," James answered, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "He's also my partner…here at the station."

"Thanks, but I think we'll be fine. We'll probably be gone before morning. Alistair's back at the plane now taking a nap."

"Oh? Alistair's here, too, then? Well, tell him hello for me, would you?"

"Can do," Moira said, giving the slightly stressed-out copper a brief hug before allowing him to return to work.

"Uh…did he…look like anyone to you guys?" Havok asked them, staring after the brown-haired officer in an odd sort of way.

"Not really. Why?" Raven asked him.

"I dunno. For a minute he kinda looked like…you know what, never mind. It's probably just my imagination."

"So what are we gonna do about Erik?" Banshee asked the group at large. "We've still got nothing to go on."

"Well…he somehow managed to get from Cuba all the way to Las Vegas, then from there to here. Oceans are clearly no stop to him. Perhaps his next thought was to get to the mainland. In which case, our next best bet would be France," Moira speculated, leading the way away from the gutted police station.

"Hey, maybe we'll get lucky and you'll have a vision about where he's going next," Havok suggested in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," Moira said, not really looking at any of them. She had seen many things about where Erik was ultimately heading in her visions…in the distant future and the not so distant future. She didn't have an exact location as to where most of these visions took place, but she hoped to god they were not true…that they were not set in stone…that this fate could somehow be changed.

XxX

Shaw and Emma didn't take the T.V. with them when they left. They kept it playing…endlessly repeating how horrible the events in London were: lists of the missing, the injured, the critical…and the dead…so many dead.

After several hours of it, Charles just couldn't take it anymore. One minute, he was sitting and staring at the screen; the next, he was crouched over the accursed thing, his hand bleeding and punctured with tiny shards of glass.

At first, he couldn't comprehend what had happened. It wasn't until he registered the pain in his hand that he realized he'd punched right through the screen. He…hadn't even known he _could_ do something like that. Why…why had he…?

"A little out of touch, I see," Pele's voice commented. Charles' eyes snapped back to his cot, where she stood, surveying him with a critical eye.

"How…how long have you been there?" he asked, cradling his injured hand against his chest.

"I've been here ever since they brought the set in. I just told your mind I _wasn't_ here. I think you know how it works."

Charles nodded. "Unfortunately. Pele…you're…at your own ease here, yes? They don't keep you locked up?" he asked her.

"No."

"Then…why do you stay? Couldn't you run away?"

"I stay…because I am bonded to them," she replied simply.

"What…do you mean?"

"It's a bond…with all mutant kind…and I have nothing else."

"But…dear heart…you're only a child. What Shaw's done to you-"

"No, I'm not," she quickly interrupted him, but then repeated more slowly, "No. I'm. Not. Have at least that much respect for me, Professor. I haven't been a child for more than two years now."

"Perhaps not," the older telepath capitulated, "but why should you feel what they've done to you is a bond?"

"Because we must all suffer…each in our turn…if we are to survive. It is your turn now. You are only just beginning to go through the fire. Your guilt burns strongly within you."

"My…guilt?"

"Yes. As I am responsible for the deaths of my parents…as Erik Lehnsherr is responsible for the death of his mother…so, too, are you responsible for the deaths in London…and any others that might occur at Erik Lehnsherr's hands: your _guilt_."

"No," Charles argued. "Erik didn't kill his mother and you didn't kill your parents."

"They were sacrificed that we might be set free. It is much the same thing. I see you don't contest your guilt over the deaths in London," she said, walking over to him. With him on his knees, they were about the same height.

"I…can't," he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know I'm partly responsible. He wouldn't have been there if it weren't for me."

"Exactly. London was sacrificed that you and Erik might be set free."

"Me?" he murmured, not quite understanding.

"Absolutely. You will be one of us, Charles Xavier. This process will complete Erik Lehnsherr's initiation…and yours. What began with Erik will end with you. You will have your true potential awakened. It has already begun."

"What do you mean?" he asked, the slow stranglehold of horror beginning in his gut.

"You're beginning to lose your own control. Look at yourself. You've destroyed a television set. Why would you do that? You could have just as easily switched it off."

Charles glanced down at his mangled hand in mild shock. She was right. Why would he do something so reckless? All he had managed to do was injure himself.

"But it felt _good_, didn't it," she suggested callously, reading the thoughts in his head. "It felt good to regain some measure of control…and destroy something that was hurting you."

"Pele, that's enough," he said quietly, not wanting to go down this path with her.

"Do you think I'm a baby?" she demanded, her eyes going hard. "Do you think I'll shut up just because you're displeased with what I say? You can't just tell me off. I'm a telepath, just like you. The only way to deal with me…is directly…and only Sebastian and Emma can teach you that."

_Don't you want…__**real**__ power?_

Charles' eyes darted around the room. That voice…it hadn't come from Pele. Had it…been his _own_ voice? No…it couldn't be…

Pele smiled knowingly when she saw the fear in his eyes. She'd heard the voice, too.

"See what I mean? You're beginning to come awake…just like I did."

"What…what is that?"

"The suppressed urge of your power. You're much stronger than even _you_ realize. You shouldn't have to hide it."

"It isn't that simple, Pele," he tried to explain to her. "You can't just do whatever you want. Sometimes, we _have_ to control our abilities…or we risk destroying the things we love."

"But there _is_ nothing I love," she reminded him, "and it will be the same for you."

"I don't believe that," Charles said with more conviction than he felt. "In fact, I think that's why you believe as you do…because there is still love within you…and this is the only way you can deal with what you've done…what you've become…what _he_ turned you into." He knew he was risking life and limb by saying it, but it needed to be said. Pele needed to hear it.

And he did pay for it…dearly. The moment the words pierced her ears, her small hands flew into the air.

"BURN!" she screamed.

For the third time in his life, Charles was on fire, screaming in pain as her psionic energy tore his defenses to shreds.

_You are a __**fool**__, Charles Xavier! And I will __**burn **__the naivety out of you!_ She screamed in his head.

When Pele finally released him from her hellfire, he couldn't move…didn't even have the energy to curl up into a ball. It was all he could do just to keep breathing.

"I _can_ kill with this power," she reminded him. "The human mind _can_ be driven to death by an illusion."

_I know_, he responded to her telepathically, unable to speak. _You and I both know how fragile the mind can be._

_So why don't you fight me? I could easily destroy your mind._

_I could never fight you, Pele…because regardless of what you may think, you **are** still a child, and you don't understand the consequences of what you do._

_Nobility…heh. My father had it, too. Emma and Sebastian will break you of it. In fact, Sebastian will probably make you his soon._

_What are you talking about?_ He asked, fearing he already knew.

_We've all had to go through it. With Emma, myself, and Angel, it was literal. Since Emma joined him, it's only been telepathic with the men,_ she explained, supplying some rather unsavory images of what she spoke of. _You think it's bad now. It's only going to get worse…__**much**__ worse._

_He did…__**that**__…to you?_ Charles asked, feeling sick to his stomach again. _Why? Erik-_

_Erik Lehnsherr was his first,_ she said, smirking. _He learned from his mistakes. You barely withstood Emma. How do you think you'll deal with Sebastian?_

Finally gathering enough energy to sit up, Charles did so, looking Pele in the eye as he spoke.

"I honestly don't know."

XxX

(A/N) I have not yet _begun_ to torture! Dear readers, the thing about me and torture and tragedy…is that I do them pretty well. I won't let these boys go until I've wrung every last exquisite drop of agony from them. Pele wasn't lying when she said it only gets worse. So if you're in for the long haul, so be it, but if not…yeah, you've been warned. The M ain't just for show.

Note: James and Michael? Yeah, I went there. I totally went there. Just thought I'd give you a tiny bit of reprieve, cuz Heaven knows there won't be a lot of that in this story.


	7. Picking Locks

(A/N) A few of you are starting to realize what's going on…but you haven't figured out everything. Let's see what more you can figure out.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 7: Picking Locks_

"You're taking all of this extremely well," Raven said to Alistair as she entered the cockpit of the small plane. The flight over the English Channel wasn't a long one, of course, but the others were all taking the opportunity to beat the jet lag…except Moira, who was busy scribbling in a new notebook.

None of the mutants had questioned it before because they'd been so pressed for time, but Raven was really starting to wonder about the lanky Scotsman…especially now that Moira was a mutant herself. Alistair hadn't questioned the whole mutant business when Moira had come to him the first time; he'd simply flown them where they'd needed to go and warned Moira to stay out of trouble. Throughout all of it, the man hadn't questioned Moira even once…just given her what she needed. Who was he?

"Well…Moira never could leave well enough alone. I guess I'm just the one who makes sure she doesn't get in over her head."

"I mean…the whole mutant thing. The government's trying to keep the whole Cuba matter on the down low. It isn't exactly safe to be associating with us."

"If Moira trusts you, I trust you. That's all I need. I'd side with you lot over a group of government monkeys any day."

"But still…you're taking the fact that you're sitting next to a girl who can change her shape to look exactly like you extremely well…if you get what I'm saying."

"What? Do you _want_ me to dislike you, Raven?"

"No! I'm just…"

"Not used to people just taking it in stride?" the older man supplied, offering her a sympathetic smile.

"Something like that."

"Lass, there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy…so said the Bard…and I do believe it. There's not a whole lot anymore that'd surprise me."

"Who are you, then?"

"Alistair Kinross. Just an old Scot who flies planes," he replied, dodging the question without seeming to.

"No. I mean, who are you that Moira would trust you with our secret? She wouldn't tell just anyone."

Sighing, the man stole a glance over at Raven. "If she hasn't told you herself, I don't know that I'm the right person to. You should wait for _her_ to tell _you_. What I _can_ tell you is that we grew up together. Did you know Moira was born in Scotland?"

"No," Raven answered in surprise, glancing back into the fuselage, where Moira was still hard at work. "She doesn't even have a trace of an accent."

"She worked hard to lose it. I guess she just wanted to forget. Family trouble. She moved to the states when she was barely eighteen."

Raven immediately felt a surge of empathy with the other woman. Family trouble was something she could definitely understand. She'd have to ask her about it some time.

"Raven?" she suddenly heard Alistair asking her. "Do you…count yourself as Moira's friend?"

"Yes," she replied without really having to think about it. Even before her transformation, Moira had accepted them and treated them as equals. Raven hadn't realized before Cuba just what a rare person Moira was…someone who didn't take things only at face value.

"Good. Can I trust you to take care of her then?"

"Yes," Raven said slowly, glancing sideways at the pilot. "Why?"

"I just want your word on it. Don't ask me how, but I've always had a bit of a sixth sense when it comes to her…and I get the feeling she's going to need someone to look after her soon. She won't let me."

"Then…I promise I'll do my best to protect her," Raven swore, resting a hand on Alistair's shoulder.

"That's good enough for me."

That was it…no questions about what was happening to Moira, no probing into the group's own affairs…just a request to see that Moira stayed safe. It was all that was needed between them.

XxX

"Do you really think Lehnsherr will figure out Azazel's clue?" Pele asked. She, Emma, and Shaw were currently in another room of the underground complex. The two adults were sipping glasses of wine while Pele nursed a glass of grape juice.

"Oh, he'll figure it out. It'll come to him eventually. He could never forget…not really," Shaw said, smiling into his glass.

"But what if he doesn't?" Pele repeated. "What if he's not in time for the awakening?"

"Your concern is noted, Pele, but I don't think Charles' awakening will _happen_ without Erik. He will be the catalyst."

"But _I_ was the one who started it," Pele argued petulantly. Shaw grinned as he ran his fingers through the girl's dark hair.

"You did at that, but you're not his catalyst, my dear. Everyone has one…that one thing that will push them over the line between what they can and cannot do. You'll never be able to push Charles Xavier over that line…not by yourself, anyway. In fact, I think he draws a kind of strength from you."

"How do you mean?"

"Charles Xavier has a bit of a white knight complex. If he thinks he can _save_ you from me, he will still have the power to resist me. So perhaps you ought to see a little bit less of him. He _did_ get to you yesterday, after all."

Sighing, Pele eventually nodded. "I guess you're right."

"Burn him if you wish, but otherwise, don't interact. Let him twist. Though…Emma…I think it might soon be time to start using that complex of his against him, don't you?"

"Cheers," Emma said, clinking glasses with him. "I have a few other scenarios to work through first, but once we've done that, we can get started."

XxX

His discussion with Pele was probably the last moment of clarity Charles had…_if it was even real_, he found himself thinking later. He was caught up in a series of half-remembered fever dreams after that. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he _knew_ he was at the mercy of a very powerful telepath, but he just couldn't reconcile that part of his mind with the part that was sick, starving, and racked with guilt and despair. He could no longer be certain what was real or not real.

_He's running through the darkness. He can see the mansion in the distance, its lights burning brightly. He's out of breath…long past endurance…but he must get there…before it's too late…_

_Then, without warning, the old house ignites, becoming a blazing inferno that lights the night like a second sun._

_He screams as he crashes to his knees. They're all in there: the boys, Moira, Raven…**Erik**! God…Erik…_

_Suddenly, he blinks and he's no longer in New York. He's…he's in the sub with Erik…only…Erik is wearing the helmet…**Shaw's** helmet._

"_No! Don't do this! Erik!" he hears himself shouting, but the older man just stares at him…his eyes devoid of everything but cold vengeance._

"_This is what we're going to do," he says, his voice filled with a horrifying amount of satisfaction as he raises the old coin._

"_No…please, Erik, no…" he begs, trying desperately to get inside the other man's head. This was what he had feared…losing Erik this way…_

"_I'm going to count to three and I'm going to move the coin. One."_

_Charles feels like he could cry as he watches the coin begin to move through the air. Is this really what all they've been through together comes down to? The friendship…the unspoken feelings…Erik would really throw it all away like this? He doesn't know if he can bear it._

"_**Please**, Erik…" he cries._

_**I…I thought…**_

"_Two."_

"_Erik…" he whispers. He's terrified. He wants to run from this…but if Erik's really going to do this…then there will be no reason for him to go on living if he runs._

_**Do you love me?**_

"_Three."_

_The pain is worse than anything Pele could ever cause. It seems that he spends an eternity screaming, the coin drilling through his brain while Erik looks on in grim satisfaction…and yet no time at all. The very next moment, he's back in Westchester…in the library._

_He's sitting on the couch reading a book…when he suddenly finds Erik's body pressed up against his, the book crushed between them as a hot, demanding mouth takes possession of his._

"_I want you," the metal-kine whispers against his lips._

_He wants to return the embrace…he really does…but something doesn't feel right._

"_Please, Erik, not right now. I'm tired," he tries to wave him off. Surely, he'll respect his wishes._

_Erik pulls back for a moment, anger in his eyes the likes of which Charles has only ever seen directed at Shaw._

"_You said you know **everything** about me, yes?"_

"_I…suppose," he replies, fighting a very strong urge to flee._

"_Then you know…that I **take** the things I want," he growls before shoving him down on the couch._

"_No! Don't do this! Erik!" he hears himself begging once again. Erik just ignores him, panting heavily as he lays him bare._

"_No…please, Erik, no…" he pleads. He really is crying now. How can he do this…Erik…**his** Erik…like **this**…_

"_**Please**, Erik…" It's different…but at the same time, it's exactly the same. The only real difference is that the pain is no longer in his head._

"_Erik…" He's sobbing openly now. He can't help it. He's never known a worse pain in his entire life._

_Then, in the briefest of moments, he's free of it. He's lying in a cell now, instead of pinned to the couch. As he takes stock of himself, he finds he's dressed in a grey prison uniform. Glancing at his left inner forearm, he sees a number tattooed there. Looking around, he sees other cells with other people…other **mutants**: Beast, Banshee, Havok, Raven…all the mutants whose minds he's touched with Cerebro…all of them imprisoned. _

"_You see?" a voice beside him hisses. He turns and finds Erik beside him, in just the same state…only he has **two** numbers on his arm. "This is what happens when you don't fight back. Soon they'll kill us all."_

"_No," he says, barely containing his shock. "It won't be like that. It **can't** be."_

"_It already is…but you and I can stop it."_

_As Erik speaks, the prison scene shifts. They're back on the beach. Erik is wearing the helmet again._

"_The two of us together, Charles…we can change the world. The humans would be no match for us," Erik tells him, holding out his hand._

_Charles looks at the offered hand…and seriously considers taking it for a moment, but then he shakes his head. "No," he murmurs slowly. "This…this…isn't right."_

"_Please, Charles. I **need** you by my side…and you need me. Neither of us can hope to achieve half of what we could together. Only **we** can save our people from the humans," he says, taking a moment to take off the helmet before holding out his hand again. "You have to trust me."_

_Hesitantly, Charles' eyes shift between the hand and the helmet. This gesture…does…does this mean…that Erik trusts him…fully?_

"_Always," Erik says, hearing the thoughts Charles has unintentionally projected into his mind. "Charles, come with me. We'll lead mutant-kind into an age of peace…together. We can **be** together."_

_Charles looks into Erik's eyes, seeing the sincerity he's longed for in them. To be with him…in a heaven of their own making…"Forever?" he whispers._

"_Forever," Erik promises. "Just take my hand."_

_He knows it's wrong. He **knows** this isn't what he wants…not like this…but he just can't help himself. He's seen what their lives will be otherwise. Shaking uncontrollably, he takes Erik's hand. Erik pulls him to his chest in a tight, comforting embrace._

"_I'm scared," he whispers against him, lost between more worlds and more realities than he can understand._

"_It's all right," Erik soothes, gently kissing his ear. "I'm here now."_

_Just as suddenly, though, he's not. Erik is torn away from him in a flash of agony. When he's finally able to see again, Erik is lying several feet away…in a pool of his own blood._

"_**NO!**" he screams, racing toward him…but he's already too late. His chest has been torn open…his **heart's** gone._

_As Charles falls to his knees, gathering Erik's body in his arms, feeling more helpless and useless than he's ever felt in his life…something new begins to stir inside him._

_**Make them pay…whoever's done this…make them ****pay****! They ****stole**** him from you! Make them ****suffer****! You have the power. Use it!**_

_But this new power burns him…and he recoils from it…but he knows he has touched it, and he cannot un-know it._

"Erik…Erik…" Charles cried out in his fevered sleep, his nightmares directed by Emma's power.

"Exquisite," Shaw exulted as he watched Emma work. "He really almost had it that time."

They had seen it…for only a moment. The telepath's eyes had flown wide open, radiant with untapped power…but then it had dimmed. Charles had been unwilling to grasp it.

"He's still hesitant," Emma said, sighing in slight frustration.

"We'll get there. We'll get him to embrace it yet."

XxX

It wasn't until he was several miles from the beach that Erik collapsed in sheer exhaustion. As Moira had predicted, it hadn't taken much for him to get across the channel…just a piece of scrap metal. The constant strain, however, wasn't doing much for his frazzled nerves. He hadn't had time to regroup and re-plan his strategy as he normally did when a mission went wrong. Charles didn't have the time it would take. He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd eaten, though, and his body simply wasn't going to go any further without a rest…forced, if necessary.

_I'm sorry, Charles. If I was stronger…maybe this wouldn't be happening._

As Erik lay in the dirt, caught somewhere between waking and dreaming, an odd assortment of images began to drift through his head. He could see Charles…imprisoned as he had been…

"_**Do**__ you trust me, Erik?"_

"_Erik…Erik…"_

_I…I…believe in you._

_Do…do you really…love me?_

"_Remember what sets you free."_

"_Erik…help me! Please…**Erik**! **Save me**!"_

"_**Please**, Erik…"_

_I love you…_

"_Remember what sets you free."_

"_I'm going to count to three…and you're going to move the coin."_

"_Remember what sets you free."_

"_Drei."_

_No matter where he takes you, I'll find you. I promise you._

"_Remember what sets you free."_

_Arbeit macht frei._

_ARBEIT…_

_MACHT…_

_FREI…_

_Work sets you free._

Erik's eyes snapped open, his beleaguered consciousness returning to him as the memory flooded his brain…the old words…the Nazi slogan…the lie that had been promised to his family upon their entrance into the camp.

_Arbeit macht frei._

_Work sets you free._

Shaw had done some of his 'best work' in the camp…what if he had never left it?

At least he had a clear destination in mind now. He would have to cross Belgium, Germany, _and_ Poland, but it was still a clear destination. His exhaustion vanished in the blink of an eye as he jumped to his feet. The revelation had lit a fire in him and he had no intention of letting that fire die.

_I'm coming, Charles. Just hold on a little longer._

In order to rescue Charles Xavier, Erik would have to return to the place where his life had been torn apart.

Auschwitz.

XxX

(A/N) Well, it seems that Shakespeare's becoming a familiar figure in this story. Seems to be working, though.

And here we finally have it: Auschwitz. I know the movies don't specifically name it, but the comics do, and the movies just say Poland, which is where the camp was located. With all these elements present, I feel comfortable naming Auschwitz-Birkenau as the camp where Erik was held. Work sets you free is also a slightly rough translation of the phrase 'arbeit macht frei.' More literally, it would be 'work makes free', and it was a slogan commonly used in concentration camps.

So, some of you made the call on Auschwitz. Any other guesses?


	8. Keys to the Kingdom

(A/N) Good to see the story's still getting some love. Let's see what our boys will do now.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 8: Keys to the Kingdom_

Charles knew it the moment Shaw came to him. In a rare moment of clarity, he felt Emma's mind connect to his…and she wasn't alone. Vaguely, Charles realized this must mean that Shaw had, at long last, taken the helmet off, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it with Emma present. Besides, all he could really think about was what Pele had shown him before. He couldn't help but recoil when Shaw's mind reached out to touch his through Emma.

"You don't need to be afraid, Charles. I'm not going to hurt you," the older man said as his image took shape in the telepath's mind. As he watched, other images began to appear around Shaw…Emma and Pele most strongly, but there were others…Angel and Azazel…and still more he didn't recognize.

"What are they doing here?"

"They're all connected to you through Emma…and they're here to watch you fall."

"Please," he begged quietly, "don't…don't make Pele watch this…it's cruel…"

"No one's making Pele do anything she doesn't want to. She's here because she wants to be. She wants to be able to welcome you."

"There won't _be_ any welcoming. I…won't join you…not _ever_," he said. He'd meant to be firm, but anyone with half a brain could see he was scared. He was no longer certain he could withstand what Shaw did to him. And if he couldn't…what would happen to Erik?

"You're sick, you know?" Shaw told him. "You've been running a very high fever the last few days."

"I thought so," he said, though he couldn't be certain of anything involving his own body anymore. He couldn't bear to be attached to it for very long. The only way to hold onto his sanity was to remain mostly cut off inside his own head.

"We could let you see a doctor…if you'd only drop the stubbornness and see things our way."

"Heh…you should know by now that isn't going to persuade me."

"I thought not…which is why I'm just going to ask you…why are you still resisting? You _know _we could all accomplish so much more if we work together than if we fight amongst ourselves."

Charles shook his head. "We're not working for the same thing. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Your desire to avoid hurting anyone is childish and naïve," Pele said from her place behind Shaw. "Because of the very nature of your power, the day _will_ come when you will hurt someone."

"It's already happened…hasn't it," Shaw goaded him, calling up the memory of his night with Erik. "He felt your uncertainty that night…and you hurt him."

Charles couldn't deny it. The main thing that had made sex with Erik so different…was that he'd been able to freely use his powers. Certainly, he'd been able to look into the minds of other people he'd slept with…really, it was what made him such an excellent lover…but he'd never been able to share all of himself with a lover, having only ever slept with humans before. But Erik…he'd been able to open his own mind to him…to share his joy and his pleasure with him as well as partaking in Erik's. Never in his life had he experienced a union like that…not to _mention_ the climax. It really was the best he'd ever had, and he'd had many. Why had it frightened him so?

"You want a partner to share your mind with? Why not give _me_ a try?" Shaw suggested, moving toward him again, reaching a hand forward to gently stroke his hair.

Charles shuddered, feeling physically ill, even on the mental plane. "No," he whispered, not looking at the older mutant. "It's not sharing if you have access to it anyway."

Shaw chuckled, tracing his thumb along Charles' bottom lip. "Perhaps you're right…but I'm a _much_ more experienced lover than our Erik. If _he_ was your best, imagine what _I_ might be like."

"I don't want to," Charles said calmly, though he could feel tears in his eyes. "It was like that with Erik…because he's Erik."

"Because he's Erik," Shaw mocked softly, drawing Charles into his arms…their minds pressed harshly together and starting to push into one another. "Maybe…it's because you _love_ him?"

"Maybe," Charles said, still refusing to look at Shaw.

"But you won't say those words to us…will you."

"Never."

Suddenly, Shaw seized Charles' hair and yanked his head back, exposing his lily-white throat. As Shaw ravished it, the joining of minds changed from being gentle to being sharp and penetrating. Charles could feel Shaw within him, his mind hot and throbbing with his intention to defile the telepath.

"I prefer to think of this as a time of consummation with my followers, but if you don't want to participate, I can just as easily take you…screaming."

As he turned Charles about in his arms, forcing his way inside, his voice was suddenly everywhere in his head. There was no hiding from it.

"Why do you say we don't want the same thing? We _do_, you know. We both want to see our brothers and sisters reach their full potential. That is our ultimate goal."

"I'm not like you," Charles ground out, refusing to give in to the pain of the assault. "You're a murderer."

"Is a human a murderer if he crushes a bug beneath his feet? What I do is no different."

"You killed…Darwin," Charles argued. "One of our own kind. Surely…that's murder."

"Pure self defense," Shaw shot back. "But if you're looking for someone to blame, I think you already have that…in yourself."

"…I…"

"_You_ brought him out of hiding and into danger. It was _you_. His death is on _your_ hands. I _know_ it is. I can see it."

He couldn't argue. Shaw was right. He _did_ feel responsible for Darwin's death. Perhaps he deserved this pain…

"How are you different? Who's to say the mutants you train won't go off into battle and get themselves killed? You're raising mutant children like lambs for the slaughter. At least my way teaches them to survive. After all…look at our Erik."

"There's a difference between surviving…and living." He believed that. He _knew_ he did, but he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Shaw had managed to plant doubt in him and he knew it. The older mutant was almost gleeful as he raked his fingers through that doubt.

He knew he'd been one of the few lucky ones. All of the others seemed to be suffering for their existence. Maybe…as mutants…all they _could_ do was survive?

"Why did you sleep with Erik?" Shaw suddenly asked him.

"Because…because…" He didn't really need to answer, though, because Shaw plucked the horrified revelation directly from him.

"Because you thought you could make him better. Because you thought it might help him see things from your perspective. It was just another experiment, wasn't it…just like _I_ used to do with him."

_Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God…_

"Do you really care for him at all…or is he just another experiment?"

He'd been able to brush it off before…but with Shaw buried so deeply in his mind as he was…he was incapable of letting the accusation go now. Was he no better for Erik than…than _this_ man?

Now that Shaw had him, he wasn't going to let him go. He thrust even harder into these feelings of unresolved guilt, plunging deep and dragging them to the surface while Charles' heart cried out in pain. Each new thrust was a new wound…a new scar in his already splintering spirit…and he knew now that Shaw would push until he was shattered. Emma's assaults had never been nearly this devastating.

"Maybe you don't love him, Charles…but you're like me. You want to see him do well…you want to save him. I understand that," Shaw said, his seductive voice like a soothing hand against something raw and open. With the devastation of the previous accusations still fresh and bleeding, Charles knew he was open now…open and inviting…and Shaw took advantage, soothing the pain he was causing…and stirring other things, as well.

"Our Erik is like all those other mutants whose minds you touched. You just want to help; I know. You could do that…if you allow yourself to become who you were born to be. You could save them _all_," Shaw crooned to him, his rhythms now shifting between soothing and violent.

"Save…?" Charles whispered, his breath catching in his throat as Shaw stroked the errant thought, stirring such a desire deep within him.

"Yes. Be their savior, Charles…be their guiding star. You have _such power_," Shaw exulted, sensing that the telepath was close now. "What was it you said to your pupil…you have to set the beast free?"

_Power…yes…__**true**__ power…to never be helpless or useless ever again! Come…__**taste**__ it…_

"But I don't _want_ that power," Charles hissed, though he was panting for release. "I've _never_ wanted it." Even through the pain and confusion he was drowning in, he still remembered that awful burning star buried deep within his psyche. He _could not allow_ that to be set free.

Shaw sighed in frustration. Even now, on the edge like this, Charles was _still_ holding back. No matter. He still had _one_ weapon left to him.

"Well, Charles, I'm sorry it's come to this, but if I cannot have your compliance…I will take your fury instead."

With that, Shaw thrust into him one last time. This penetration carried with it memories of Erik…of what had occurred between them in the camp. It was not these horrors that broke him, though. He had seen them already…in Erik's own mind. It was Shaw's own emotional connection to what had happened…he had _liked_ it. He had destroyed Erik in order to turn him into the weapon he was…and he had enjoyed every minute of it.

_You did that to __**my**__ Erik…and __**liked**__ it? I'll make you __**pay**__!_

At that, what little control Charles still possessed was broken. Screaming, he felt the glorious flare of power burn through his entire being as he threw Shaw back from him. He threw them all back, out of his head and back into reality. The incensed telepath was on his feet now, his blue eyes blazing with rage and power. Azazel, Angel, and the other non-telepaths looked frightened, but Shaw, Emma, and Pele all looked enraptured, as if they stood in the presence of a messiah.

"I will _kill_ you, Sebastian Shaw!" he announced fiercely, his voice like thunder.

"Yes," Shaw breathed, his face alight with exhilaration.

"Did you think you could wake one such as me without consequence?" he demanded, taking several slow steps forward.

"Charles…you truly are beautiful," Shaw exulted, holding his hands out in amazement.

"He really is going to kill you," Pele warned Shaw, taking a brief glance inside Charles' head. Charles flicked his gaze over to the little telepath.

"You dare enter _my_ mind?" he challenged, easily flinging Pele's power back at her. Instantly, the girl began to scream in agony.

"_That's_ how it feels. Like it, little Pele?" he hissed at her.

"Pele!" Emma shouted, stepping up to interfere, but Charles easily flung her back against the cell wall.

"Latent telekinesis," Shaw noted. "Wonderful."

Charles was about to respond to him when he glanced back at Pele, still screaming as she burned, but held immobile by his power.

_Oh, God…_

_**You** did this!_

As the horror washed through him, the fire of his power instantly faded from Charles' eyes and he collapsed to his knees. He had nearly lost himself in the onslaught of power.

"Pele…Pele, I'm sorry…so sorry…I didn't…mean…" he sobbed briefly before passing out cold on the cell floor.

"Damn," Shaw growled, going to help Pele up from the floor. "He really had it for a moment there."

"It was…so bright," Pele said, her voice shaking as she stared at the unconscious man, "but he couldn't sustain it."

"He couldn't bring himself to truly harm another," Emma said as she got to her feet, something odd and unidentifiable in her voice.

"It would appear my memories are not good enough," Shaw said as he went to roll Charles onto his back, taking a moment to stroke his hair. "Perhaps it will only work if it's the _real_ Erik Lehnsherr."

XxX

Alistair brought his plane down at Lesquin International Airport in Lille, France, not too far from the Belgian-French border. They'd kept an eye out, but they hadn't spotted Erik from the air as they flew over land. As of right now, the only option was to set up shop in Lille and hope they caught some word of his whereabouts. Even though they were all hoping his next display wouldn't be quite as drastic as what had happened in London, they all knew that Erik was moving Heaven and Earth in order to get to Charles. The question now was…just where was the metal-kine heading?

"How many of those things have you filled up?" Banshee asked Moira, watching as she neared the end of yet another notebook. They were all sitting inside a small café having lunch while Beast and Alistair, who both spoke at least a smattering of French, were out seeing about a place for their little team to stay.

"I'm not sure. Twenty? Maybe twenty-four," she said absently.

"Twenty-four?" Havok repeated, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

"I don't know," she said again. "I can't remember how many I left back in Westchester. They're not very big."

"Anything interesting?" Raven asked, casually munching on a croissant.

Moira took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to avoid answering as long as she could. She'd seen many interesting things these past few weeks…some things that were _too_ interesting…and many more things that she just didn't understand…some even that she _wished_ she didn't understand. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was fairly certain she knew exactly how Havok and Alistair were going to die…not anytime in the near future, but that was of small comfort to her…especially since she couldn't seem to make sense of the future she saw before their two absent friends. She saw many conflicting visions concerning the two powerful mutants…so conflicting, she couldn't even be sure if they would survive the events of the next few days. Even if they did, there seemed to be two possible futures waiting for them: one in which they parted ways as enemies, causing wounds that would never really heal…and another in which they lived on together. Honestly, she couldn't tell which future she preferred, as they both contained horrors and happiness of their own. Either way, both futures were contingent upon the next few days. If either Charles or Erik didn't survive the horrors to come, then both futures would be negated.

"Too much," Moira finally answered, her voice barely audible above the noise of the bustling café.

"Anything you want to talk about?" the shape shifter prompted, treading cautiously in her choice of words. Moira had been nothing if not on edge these past few weeks and Raven felt that her friend was one wrong word away from slipping quietly into madness. More and more often these days, Raven found it had fallen to her to keep the group together and on task.

"I…can't," Moira said, sounding slightly helpless as she laid her pencil down on top of the full notebook. "There's so much of it I just can't make sense of…and I don't know if other people should see it, anyway."

"Well…gee, who _wouldn't_ want to get a look at those things? A chance to see the future? Duh," Banshee said, trying to sound light-hearted, but they all knew better. If these volumes Moira had been transcribing the last few weeks really were a reflection of the future…anyone with the wrong intentions could possibly want to get their hands on them if their existence were ever discovered. Even if they did manage to help Erik rescue Charles…there was still so much more that had to be dealt with.

Even as the four of them sat around the small table, contemplating the heavy situations they found themselves in…they couldn't have imagined that it was about to get even worse.

Raven was just about to pick up her near empty cup of hot chocolate when Moira's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Raven?" she whispered, terror in her voice. "Did…did the café just lose power?"

"No. Even if it had, it's only just after noon. You'd still be able to see. What's wrong?" she asked, looking up at Moira to find her staring across the room, her eyes wide with fear. Moira's grip on her arm tightened.

"Raven," she said again…slower this time, "I can't see."

Raven felt a chill travel down her spine at this. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said." Her expression was growing more and more horrified by the minute. It was as if someone had flicked a switch off in her head. One minute, she'd been looking at Raven…the next, she hadn't been. She'd been looking at nothing. The world had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye. "I can't see. I can't see."

"Havok. Banshee. Go find the other two right now," Raven ordered firmly, scooting her chair a little closer to Moira's. "Beast will know what to do."

As the two boys scurried off to do her bidding, Raven draped an arm around Moira's shivering shoulders, holding her close to try and keep her calm. "It's all right," she reassured her, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her shoulder, as Charles had used to do for her whenever she had panic attacks. "Whatever this is…Beast will fix you right up. It's going to be all right."

Over and over again, Moira continued to mutter the words, "I can't see, I can't see, I can't see." It was all so sudden. Why was it happening _now_? _Right now?_

However, even as she sat there, stewing in her own fear and confusion, several pieces clicked into place in Moira's brain and she turned to the spot where she had last seen Raven.

"I know where Erik's going."

XxX

Erik stopped for gasoline just outside the city of Dresden. He'd managed to steal a motorbike back in Belgium and hadn't looked back since. He had spent the past few days alternating between traveling on the bike's power and propelling it with his own power. While he could have traveled on his own power the whole way, he was now thinking he ought to save his strength for the battle that was sure to come. Probably ought to think about eating something, as well.

Even now, eighteen years later, Germany was still in chaos. Dresden had barely recovered from the massive Allied bombings it had suffered near the end of the war. Even though he was German by birth, Erik found he didn't really care. He had spent precious little time in Germany since the end of the war. He was bitter toward the country and he made no secret of the fact.

Just as he was finishing up at the pump, he heard a voice he did and did not want to hear.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Groaning, Erik turned to see Emma standing just at the edge of the station's lights, smiling tauntingly.

"What are you doing here?"

"You don't ask where your Charles is. I take it that means you've got a destination in mind?" she asked, slowly beginning to walk toward him.

"You _know_ I do," he snapped at her. "You've already read my mind."

"Yes…and while we're busy not playing games with each other, you _know_ why I'm here."

Erik didn't say anything. He just nodded. Of _course_ he knew. What else had this entire thing been for…if not this? He dreaded what was coming, knowing it would only bring him pain, but at the same time…he _yearned_ for it. He longed to be able to touch Charles in some way…even if it was only indirectly through this ice queen's mind…and even though it was only to know what he was suffering…even so, he would welcome it.

Almost the moment he'd nodded, Emma's memories began to flood his mind. The first thing he felt was how much it had pained and shamed Charles to know that Emma was showing him what they were doing to him…saw his resolve not to give them reactions…and just as quickly saw Emma tear that resolve apart.

_You think this is pain? You do not __**know**__ pain._

"_I know…you are __**not**__ Erik Lehnsherr. You are __**not**__ my friend. You are __**not**__ the man I…"_

"_Go on, Charles…say it. Tell me you love me."_

"_No…I won't…you won't take it from me…"_

_I was…I was…_

"_Raped?"_

"_Is he alive?"_

"_He's becoming more powerful by the minute…and it's all thanks to you."_

_Erik…what have you done?_

"_BURN!"_

_You are a **fool**, Charles Xavier! And I will **burn** the naivety out of you!_

_You think it's bad now? It's only going to get worse…**much** worse._

_Do you love me?_

"_Then you know…that I **take** the things I want."_

"_No…please, Erik, no…"_

"_Forever?"_

"_I'm scared."_

"_**NO!**"_

"_I'm not like you."_

"_His death is on **your** hands."_

"_Why did you sleep with Erik?"_

_Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God…_

"_You have to set the beast free."_

_Power…yes…**true** power…to never be helpless or useless ever again! Come…**taste** it…_

"_But I don't **want** that power."_

"_If I cannot have your compliance…I will take your fury instead."_

_You did that to **my** Erik…and **liked** it? I'll make you **pay**!_

"_I will **kill** you, Sebastian Shaw!"_

_He had nearly lost himself in the onslaught of power. Onslaught._

_**Onslaught.**_

When Emma finally released him, Erik found himself on his knees, trembling as the threat of tears stung at his eyes.

"What…what have you _done_?" he asked, digging his fingers into the earth in a near-vain attempt to hold himself together. That…that _creature_ with the eyes of blue fire…that wasn't Charles. That was _not_ the man he'd fallen in love with.

"That's only his true power. That's what he _could_ be if he'd only release his inhibitions. You side with us…I know you do. You want what we want. Charles is the answer to our prayers. He will make the humans tremble."

It was true…what she said. He believed in their cause…but he could never fight for it if he had to sacrifice Charles in order to do it. He could _never_ do that. He knew that now…as surely as he knew his own name. And the things they had _done_ to him in order to wake that power…he would kill Shaw twice over now…and Emma would suffer, as well. Glaring fiercely, he turned his gaze back up to the telepath.

"I won't let you have him," he growled before springing at her, tackling her to the ground. He wrapped his hands around her slender throat with no small amount of satisfaction. However, the very next moment, it wasn't Emma he was strangling.

"Erik…please…please, don't-" Charles choked out, his fingers scrabbling desperately at the metal-kine's hands.

He knew. In the back of his mind, he _knew_. Even so…for a moment, only a moment…he hesitated…his grip loosened. Instantly, Emma became herself again in his mind's eye and shoved him back, quickly rolling away from him.

"Freeze!"

Erik's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. Out of the darkness around the station were emerging what appeared to be a team of black ops agents.

"Erik Lehnsherr, you are wanted for questioning by the CIA in connection with recent events in Cuba and Britain. You are advised to surrender at once," one of the agents said, leveling a gun at the German's head.

Laughing quietly as he raised his hands above his head, Erik glanced over at Emma. "You tipped them off back in London. It was you."

Emma nodded, smiling. "And again tonight. How are you going to get out of this one?"

Smirking to himself, he glanced around the circle of agents surrounding him.

_Cut them down._

"Come on," he goaded softly. "Come and get me."

XxX

(A/N) Yes, I'm leaving it there. Somehow, I feel that the wholesale slaughter to follow is best left to the imagination and flashbacks. And as for Charles…well, James McAvoy did express a desire for his character to "go through the fire", as it were. What do ya think, Mr. McAvoy? Fiery enough? There will definitely be more Onslaught in the near future.


	9. Under Lock and Key

(A/N) Yeah, this chapter's a bit shorter than the others, but there was really no other way to end it. Besides, I think you all will like where it's heading.

Response to C.S Augustoni: Eheh, yeah, (scratches back of head), I know. That was more the actor gag talking than anything else. It was kinda thrown in at the last minute.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 9: Under Lock and Key_

When Charles finally came to, he was no longer on the cot. From what his dulled senses could divine, he was laid out on what seemed to be a surgical table…which Emma was in the process of strapping him to.

"What…happened?" he mumbled, barely able to focus due to the fever ravaging his body. He had vague memories of his last bout with clarity, but he prayed to God they were not true.

"You woke up," Shaw's voice answered him. Briefly, Charles tried to turn his head to find the source of the voice, but he couldn't manage it. His head spun with a vengeance at the slightest movement. "It was incredible. I've never _seen_ such power."

"You hurt Pele," Emma told him as she finished up what she was doing, the expression on her face unreadable.

"Oh, God," he groaned, the memory of the child's screams returning in full force. "How…how is she?"

"Perfectly fine," Shaw said before Emma could say anything. "She doesn't hold it against you. She was just as amazed as we were. Besides, she's a kid; they bounce back."

"You've no right to treat a child this way," Charles growled, almost immediately recoiling from the sound of his own voice. It was too much like…before…

"I didn't do it, though, Charles," Shaw reminded him, slowly coming into the telepath's line of sight. "_You_ did."

Charles had no words. There was nothing he _could_ say. He had done something he'd promised himself he would _never_ do…and Pele had paid for it. All he could do was close his eyes in a vain attempt to shut everything out.

"Besides, Professor, Pele is mine to do with as I please…just as our little Erik is. And on the subject of Erik Lehnsherr…the city of Dresden, Germany now lies in ruins."

Charles' eyes opened wide upon hearing this.

"What?" he whispered. Shaw wouldn't tell him this unless-

"Unfortunately, I can't give you another television to watch the news with…not after what happened to the last one…but Emma was actually present for this one; so I'll just let her show you what happened."

Before Charles could say anything more, Emma was connected to him yet again…and his mind was swamped with Erik's.

"_What…what have you __**done**__?"_

All of the metal-kine's anguish was contained in those few words. Charles saw him collapse…break a little more. Erik really was on the very edge of his sanity.

Then he saw the agents ambush him…saw Erik take control of the weapons…and saw each of the men slowly turn and fire on each other…and through Emma, he felt each of them die.

That would have been bad enough, but the CIA wasn't quite finished with him. More agents pursued him. He rode into the city…and he could have easily evaded the Americans without further loss of life…except that he still had Emma in his head, urging him to destruction. In some ways…it was worse than the Allied bombings. No one was spared.

_Kill them! Kill them all!_

Briefly, Erik had tried to resist Emma's influence, but he had no real drive to resist violence. He had done it. He had turned the city into a molten slag of its former self…and once again, through Emma's power, Charles felt every single mind die…each wasted soul became a fresh wound in his already mangled heart…and all of this was compounded by Erik's awakening to what he'd done…his horror. As he experienced it all afresh, Charles wept for him…Erik…the man who was dearer to him than all else in the world. He cried for him…and for all the lives that had been so senselessly wasted.

"Erik did this…all for you," Shaw said to him, reaching a hand forward to wipe away his tears. Charles couldn't even manage to pull away.

"He didn't!" the telepath cried out weakly. "He didn't do this. Emma _forced_ him to do it!"

"She did nothing more than stimulate what was already there. This is proof of his love for you. Cruel proof, isn't it, Charles Xavier?"

"Kill me…kill me," he begged softly, more tears escaping against his will. "_God_, do whatever you want, just…_please_…don't hurt him anymore."

"I won't kill you…not while I still need you, and I'm afraid I _can't_ stop hurting our Erik until you come fully awake. I'd suspected it in the beginning, and now I see that you won't use your power if it's your _own_ life that's in danger…but the life of someone you _love_…that's another matter altogether. I _will_ have your true self, Charles…no matter how much of our Erik I must destroy in order to release it," Shaw said, seizing Charles' chin and forcing him to look up at him. Charles glared defiantly back, his eyes still red from crying.

"There is nothing…_true_…about that _monster_…and I'll _kill_ myself before I let you unleash it."

"We'll see about that. Whether or not you want to believe it, this entity is a part of you…and you _will_ embrace him," Shaw promised, leaning down to kiss the corner of Charles' mouth. Charles flinched…and even that small movement caused his head to spin.

"I _will_ take you up on your offer to do whatever I want, though," Shaw continued, going to stand at the foot of the table. "You see, Erik is on his way here even now, and I can't just have you walk out of here if something should go wrong…so I'm going to break your legs."

Charles didn't even have any words for this. The only reaction he could muster was a perceptible widening of the eyes.

"That's what this little show is for. After all, even the most exhausted of men will fight against something like this. It'll go better for you if you just…let it happen," Shaw said, his usual half-smile in place as he wrapped his hands securely around Charles' right knee.

For several minutes, the only sounds to be heard were the sound of snapping bones…and Charles Xavier screaming.

XxX

Erik had been woken from his bloodlust by the sound of a child crying. He hadn't been able to see where the little one was, but the sound had caused him to remember things he'd rather not. He'd looked at the utter destruction around him...and he'd remembered the destruction of his own home. That had been the moment he'd seen…truly _seen_…what he had become.

_You've turned into __**them**__…into __**him**__!_

He'd fled Dresden at top speed, riding through the night and most of the day, south into Poland. He didn't know if the child had survived.

Now he found himself in a bar in the town of Oswiecim. The Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum was only a few miles away. He was certain by now that the Americans and most of Europe would be pursuing him as a terrorist. They'd been trying to blame the bridge incident on a natural disaster, but the destruction of Dresden could hardly be considered natural. He _knew_ it was dangerous for him to be out in the open, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He'd tried to eat a bowl of stew, couldn't manage it, and had had nothing but martinis for the last few hours. He didn't really see them as he drained them. All he could think about was Charles…and all the people he'd just murdered. This would kill Charles…he'd been hit hard enough by what had happened in London…and now _this_. The worst of it was that he would feel responsible for it, because Charles was just like that. Would he be able to handle everything Erik had done? Could he ever forgive him? Would he ever…be the same?

_Did you think it wouldn't hurt me?_ He thought as he stared at the bottom of his empty glass…_to watch you __**let**__ them do those things to you? Do you think it hurts less because I can't __**hear**__ you screaming? I know you are. I've been there._

In some ways, the whimpered pleas he could glean from the fading telepath were worse than the screaming he'd done while under sedation. At least he'd still had the strength to cry out. Now he just seemed to be nearing the end of his endurance. It wouldn't take much more to break him…and what would come of that? The terrifying creature Emma had shown him…the onslaught of power? Would such an awakening…mean the death of the man he loved? They had said…_he'd_ been the cause of the awakening…that this onslaught had been born from Charles' desire to protect him…to avenge the wrongs done to him…no matter what the cost might be in the end.

_I don't understand, Charles. You shouldn't…cry for someone like me. You shouldn't give up who you are for my sake. I'm not worth that._

"What do you think you're doing?" a familiar voice was suddenly at his side, asking. "Charles is counting on you, and you're in here getting _drunk_?"

Erik turned to find Raven standing beside him in her human form, and she was accompanied by Moira, who was tightly gripping her hand.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice slurring only slightly, considering all the alcohol he'd drunk. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"We came to help you rescue Charles, of course."

"How'd you know where I'd be?"

"Moira saw it."

"Saw?" he asked, taking another look at the CIA agent.

"She's a precog, Erik. Emma Frost telepathically stimulated her dormant mutant gene."

"So you're a mutant now," Erik said, raising his empty glass to Moira. "Welcome to it."

"This isn't the only thing I saw," she said quietly. "I saw Dresden, too."

"Dresden?" he hissed, his gaze snapping back to the precog, realizing for the first time that she wasn't really looking at him…in his direction, yes, but not really _at_ him. Blind?

"How could you do it? Did you think it would help?" Raven demanded quietly, adopting a scolding tone she'd learned from her brother.

"I had to do _something_," he tried to defend himself, knowing the argument was flimsy at best. "I have to save him."

"But to go so far…Erik…you're only making things worse. Do you really think this will make Charles happy?"

"Raven, don't," Moira tried to intervene. "He only did it because Emma provoked him."

"But could she have…if the urge to do it wasn't already there?" Erik speculated, staring down at the empty glass once again. "I don't _like_ humans; that's no secret…but I never meant to _kill_ them. Some of those people might have been mutants. Do you…know what stopped me?"

Moira did, but she allowed Raven to answer 'no' for both of them.

"It was a child…a child crying. Only then did I look up…and I saw…I saw what I was doing…and I realized I'd become the thing I hate most…and that's what Shaw wants. He'll use it to break Charles. Did…did you see…what's happening to him?" Erik asked Moira, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Yes…and I think you'll want to come with us. We ought to meet up with the boys in order to plan our next move."

"_Our_ next move?" Erik asked slowly, his tone suddenly becoming dangerous. "Oh, no. That is _not_ how we're doing this. Charles would never forgive himself if any of you were hurt."

"And he'd forgive himself if _you_ were?" Raven shot back.

"I can handle myself. I'll go faster with just me. You guys just focus on finding a way to get us out of here fast."

"We've already got that, but I _hope_ you haven't forgotten what happened the _last_ time you tried to face Shaw alone," Raven said, the challenge in her voice clear.

"Heh…I have a feeling that's the only way Shaw's going to let this happen," Erik said, getting slowly to his feet.

_In six point two seconds, he will attempt to strike your right shoulder_, Moira reported calmly to Raven. Her telepathy was still low level, but they'd found that the bond between the two of them had been strengthening over the past few days, what with Raven acting as Moira's eyes; and just as she'd predicted, in six point two seconds, Erik took a clumsy swing at Raven in an attempt to escape from them.

Thanks to Moira's warning, Raven easily caught the blow. Erik tried again several times, but Raven was ready each time, thoroughly beating the man back. Moira warned her when Erik was about to summon up the metal from behind the bar and she quickly seized both his wrists.

"Not here, you idiot," she hissed at him. "Do you want to give us away when we're this close?"

Erik laughed bitterly at this. "Verdammt, meine kleine Raven. Do you really think they don't already know we're here?"

"No, but there's no sense in making a scene," she said, draping an arm around the metal-kine's shoulders.

By now, several of the bar's patrons were approaching them, their looks clearly saying they were wondering why Erik would try to attack a young woman, even though neither Raven nor Moira knew what their words meant. Erik understood, but he wasn't bothering to defend himself.

Raven smiled disarmingly at the group of men, nodding toward Erik's empty glass, indicating he'd had too much. Then she began to lead both her friends out, Moira already used to their joined hands and Erik reluctantly leaning on her.

XxX

The drunk act worked perfectly in Erik's favor. He hadn't forgotten he was dealing with a precog in his mock fight with Raven and it had only served to make him appear more inebriated than he really was. He'd already gone through the phase in his life where he tried to drink away the nightmares and, as a result, had developed a ridiculously high tolerance for alcohol. So, after the girls had insisted on putting him to bed in Alistair's plane, and had gathered with him and the boys to make plans, Erik had taken the opportunity to listen in, hearing only that they planned to wait until the next night…for him to sober up. There definitely wasn't time for that. Erik wasn't sure Charles could last even that long. He didn't even stay to listen to what sort of plan they had. Frankly, he didn't care. He had his own way of doing things…and even after all these years, he had not forgotten the way to the old camp. He would never.

_Charles…I made it. _

_Herr Doktor…Ich komme für dich._

XxX

(A/N) And at last, we arrive. Our final confrontation is imminent. Hopefully, I've got you all hanging on the edge of your seats by now. So what else are we gonna do but…leave some notes.

As far as not writing the destruction of Dresden…it's not a city I'm familiar with, so I didn't feel I could do it properly. Whereas London is a city I _do_ have a working knowledge of, so…yeah.

German: Verdammt, meine kleine Raven = Damn it, my little Raven. Ich komme für dich = I'm coming for you.

Until next time…


	10. Locksmith

(A/N) Heheh, and now I give you all what you want…sort of.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 10: Locksmith _

As Erik walked through the deserted streets of the camp, it seemed almost that those eighteen long years had never passed. When had he known anything but this? Thoughts of the day his mother was killed flooded his head, bleeding together with the nightmares of Charles in her place.

…_have to stop it…have to save him…can't let Herr Doktor have him…_

Since the complex was now a museum, Shaw's base was almost certainly underground…and there was really only one place the entrance to this base could be…Schmidt's old lab. Shaw would do anything to remind him of those days…to _unhinge_ him.

When Erik finally reached the building where the lab was located and made his way up, he found that most of Shaw's own effects had been removed, replaced by generic wartime memorabilia. Trying not to shudder too much as he stepped over the place where his mother had fallen, he sent his senses into the room, searching for something that didn't belong. He eventually found that something in the old trash shoot. Normally, the shoot just led down to an incinerator, but his powers told him that the shoot now had a false metal back. It slid back easily enough, revealing a slightly larger shoot.

"Tempt not a desperate man," he whispered, suddenly remembering his words from before and feeling very much like Romeo at the mouth of the Capulet crypt as he stared down into the darkness below.

_Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, and, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!_

It was simple. Either he was leaving with Charles…or he wasn't leaving at all.

XxX

The others, of course, hadn't even realized Erik was gone. Their strategy meeting was just wrapping up when Azazel suddenly appeared in their midst.

"Good evening, comrades," he said to the shocked circle. "Excellent night for an offensive, isn't it."

Before anyone could react, he seized Havok and Banshee and disappeared with them. When he came for Beast, Alistair made a beeline for the plane, quickly finding that Erik had vanished.

"Blast!" he cursed, snagging a spare handgun before heading back. Azazel captured him mid-run.

"He got him," Raven reported tensely, her gaze darting all around, searching for the teleporter.

"Left!" Moira warned her. Raven responded instantly, turning and blocking the newly appeared teleporter's attempt to grab her.

This went on for several minutes: Moira shouting instructions and Raven striking, preventing Azazel from taking them. Moira was new to her power, though, and couldn't catch all his movements. Azazel captured them eventually. When they were reunited with the others, they found themselves in a large, dimly-lit chamber. Havok was unconscious.

"Azazel knocked him out," Banshee reported.

"Where's Erik?" Moira asked.

"Gone. Wasn't on the plane," Alistair explained, clearly angry. "He's run off."

"No…he's gone after Charles," Moira said, not sure whether to feel relieved or worried.

"Never mind him. Where are _we_?" Beast asked, glancing around. The question, however, was soon answered when Azazel appeared on a catwalk overhead.

"Enjoy your shower," he said, sneering down at them before vanishing. At this, several spouts all over the walls began to spew tiny pellets, which soon dissolved into gas.

"Oh, my God, it's a _gas chamber_!" Beast shouted. "We're trapped in a gas chamber!"

"That…that can't be," Raven whispered. "These things shouldn't be active."

"This is Shaw's game. He can do whatever he wants," Alistair said, quickly going to search for a door.

"Havok! Come on, man! Wake up!" Banshee shouted at his unconscious friend, shaking him fiercely. He was the only one who might be able to get them out. It wouldn't be long before they breathed too much of the poisonous air.

XxX

It wasn't all that difficult for Erik to find the cell where they were holding Charles. In the moments before he ripped the thick door from its metal bindings, he was too relieved to think it might have been _too_ easy. That relief, however, evaporated the moment he entered the room.

He had seen Charles' condition in Emma's mind, but it simply didn't compare with actually seeing him in such a state. His uniform was badly torn and this revealed the damage underneath. There were several tears and scrapes along the skin from contact with Emma's own diamond skin. He wasn't sure what had happened to his legs, but they appeared to be badly bruised and swelling in places. Erik's heart just about broke when the telepath gave several weak coughs.

"Charles!" he cried out, quickly running toward him and ripping away the restraints that held him down. At first, all Charles could manage was a groan. Laying a hand on his forehead, Erik found he was burning up with fever. "Charles, it's me. It's Erik. _Please_ wake up!"

Slowly, Charles opened his eyes, blinking up at him. "Erik?" he whispered.

"Yes, Charles. I'm here," he said quietly, gently running his fingers through the younger man's hair.

For a moment, Charles smiled, but then he closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, they were bright with tears.

"This is a dream," he said bitterly.

"No. No, it's not. I'm really here. I found you. I came for you…just like I promised."

"It's…it's really _you_?" Charles asked, several tears slipping from his eyes as he reached a hand up to touch his face.

Nodding, Erik turned his head to the side and gently kissed the palm of Charles' hand. Holding that hand against his cheek, he reached his free hand down to wipe the tears from the telepath's face. "I _do_ have an answer for you, Charles. I love you. I love you so much, and I'm never going to lose you again," he swore, pulling Charles into his arms and slowly helping him to sit up. Once he had him in a sitting position, Charles leaned away, dry heaving, as there was absolutely nothing in his stomach to throw up. Erik had to fight the urge to ask if he was all right, as he was clearly not. Before Charles could say anything, Erik continued with, "We need to get you to a doctor. Can you stand?"

Grimacing, Charles shook his head, leaning against Erik for support. "I…I can't walk, Erik. Shaw, he…he broke my legs. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Erik said, slowly tearing Shaw's head off in his mind. "I'll just have to carry you out of here," he added, sliding an arm beneath Charles' knees; but the moment his knees began to bend, Charles cried out in pain.

"What is it?" Erik asked, freezing in place.

"It's…my knees. Shaw twisted them. There're probably some torn ligaments. They're going to hurt no matter what you do, so you may as well get it over with."

"A-all right."

"Do it fast," Charles ordered, gritting his teeth together in preparation.

Erik did so, swiftly scooping Charles up in his arms, but even as Charles sobbed quietly in pain, he sensed another presence entering the cell.

"Oh, no."

The very next moment, Erik dropped to his knees, screaming in agony. Every nerve in his body felt like it was burning with pain, but he held onto Charles for all he was worth.

When the screaming pain finally stopped, Erik was on his knees, hunched over Charles, still clutching him protectively in his arms.

"You are different," a little girl's voice said from behind him. "You have known pain."

"Pele, I take it?" he asked, slowly turning his head back to look at her. He recognized the child from Emma's and Charles' memories.

"Very good, and you must be Erik Lehnsherr…the man who will awaken Charles."

Being as gentle as he possibly could, Erik laid Charles down on the floor, then slowly stood and turned to face Pele.

"Erik, be careful," Charles warned him.

"You hurt Charles," the metal-kine said coldly as he locked eyes with the little girl. "I should kill you now."

"Could you, though?" she asked, her eyes wide and ready for mischief.

"Erik, no! Please don't!" Charles cried out, reaching out to grab his ankle. "She's only a child. Shaw's abused her for three years. She's just like you, Erik."

As he listened to Charles' words, Erik maintained eye contact with the girl, really looking…and seeing that at such a tender age, Shaw had already made her a killer. Did _his_ eyes look like that?

_Please_. Charles was speaking directly to his mind now. _I don't want Pele to keep suffering like this…and I know you feel the same way, deep inside. I __**know**__ it!_

Sighing, Erik finally nodded. _You're right. After all…you saved me. Maybe even this one can be saved._

"Save me?" Pele asked, tilting her head to the side. "Just what do you think you can do?"

Coming to her and kneeling before her, Erik gave her the one thing he'd always wished for under Shaw's care: he gave her a hug.

Horrified by the sudden close contact, Pele did the only thing she knew to do.

"_Burn!_" she shouted.

The reaction was typical. Erik began to scream as his nerves were set on fire, but he did not release his hold on Pele as she'd expected. He held fast, holding her securely against his chest.

_I'm not letting go, Pele_, he held the thought in his head even as he screamed.

_Do you feel this pain?_ She asked him, projecting something else into his mind as she scorched him.

_This…pain? No…it's different. Loneliness,_ he clarified for her. At this, the pain subsided.

_What is loneliness?_ She asked, not looking up at him.

_I didn't understand it before, but I think I do now_, he answered, projecting an image of himself on his never-ending quest for revenge…before Charles.

_And…what is happiness?_

_I was never aware of it before, but…now I think I know what it is._ With this thought, he conjured up the mental picture of Charles he carried…and all the feelings that went with it. With the sudden rush of emotion from him, Pele finally looked up at him. It wasn't confusion in her eyes…not yet.

"Very good, Erik."

Erik's head snapped up at the sound of Shaw's voice. As he and Emma entered the cell, Erik secured his arms around Pele and rechecked his position, placing himself directly between Shaw and Charles.

"It isn't them you should be worrying about, liebkind. It's your own health you ought to be concerned with."

"If anyone here should be concerned with their health, it's _you_," Erik hissed at him. "I'll _destroy_ you for what you've done to him."

Shaw chuckled at this. "What _I've_ done to Charles is of little consequence at this point. What's _ultimately_ going to happen to him…will be because of you."

"No. I'm not going to let that happen…not ever."

Shaw's smile never faltered. "It's already begun. Pele, it's time."

Seeming like the child she really was for the first time, Pele peeked up from where she hid in Erik's arms. "Are…are you sure?"

"Yes. Exactly what we discussed."

Turning back to Erik, Pele looked into his eyes with real confusion this time.

"I…I think I'm sorry," she said before whispering, "burn."

The whispered command seemed to carry even greater weight than any of them had witnessed heretofore. Erik quickly dropped to the cell floor, his body contorting as he shrieked in agony. He was on fire…and the flesh was being slowly ripped from his body as boiling liquid filled his lungs.

"ERIK!" Charles cried out, trying to crawl to him, but unable to move. He tried to break into Pele's mind, but he couldn't manage it.

"Don't stop," Shaw urged her. "Keep going."

"NO! Pele, _please_!" Charles begged as Erik's screams grew worse. "Hurt me instead! Just leave him alone!"

"_NO!_" Erik screamed right back, somehow hearing him through everything else.

"Pele, you'll _kill_ him!" Charles cried. "_Please_ don't kill him!"

_You can't leave me now! I __**need**__ you. I need you in order to live._

Briefly, Erik smiled, even through all the pain. He met Charles' terrified gaze one last time before his body went limp and his eyes closed.

For a moment, Charles stared at him in shock, but then his mind began to go blank with fear when he reached out to try and touch his mind…and felt nothing.

_I…I can't…__**feel**__ him…can't sense his mind…__**nothing**__. No! He…he __**can't**__ be gone._

_Release me. Set me free and I will save his life for you._

_Yes._

_Give yourself over to me…and **become** the onslaught._

_**Yes!** Whatever it takes!_

At that moment, something inside of Charles _snapped_. He threw his head back and gave a cry of such utter anguish it raised the hairs on even the back of Shaw's neck. Instantly, the fire of power flared back to life in the telepath's eyes. This time, that fire spread, seeming to engulf him in a corona of energy as his power grew. Slowly, Charles' maimed body rose from the floor, supported by telekinetic energy, despite his injuries.

"_What have you done? You __**dare**__ touch Erik? __**You dare harm what's mine?**_"

XxX

"Banshee, stop! You'll scramble our brains before you get through that door!" Raven shouted at the younger mutant, who was trying to break through the metal door. Alistair had tried his gun, but the bullet had only ricocheted. The Scotsman had already dropped to his knees, coughing heavily. Banshee now fell, as well, having wasted good air trying to use his power. Moira was barely conscious and Raven was holding her in her arms as her own world started to darken around the edges. Beast was the only one left to try…and while he did seem to be managing to make some dents in the door, it still wouldn't open. Raven was starting to think they'd really bit the big one this time…when she heard a voice somewhere off to her left.

"Hey…Bozo…get back!"

Raven looked toward the source of the voice. Somehow, Havok had managed to come around and he was struggling to his knees. Once Beast was clear, Havok took aim and fired several blasts at the door, blowing it free. Getting the first few breaths of clean air, Beast quickly rushed back in to help Havok up. Alistair moved in to help Banshee out, and Raven actually lifted Moira in her arms and carried her out. The group ran through the rest of the facility, desperate to get out into the clean night air. When they found their way out locked, Havok made short work of the door and they all spilled out into the night.

_Moira, are you okay?_ Raven asked, directing her thoughts to her friend, as she didn't want the others to know how worried she'd been. She had to keep it together.

_Still breathing. It's…hard, though…_she reported, her hand weakly gripping Raven's arm.

"Beast, Moira's in pretty bad shape. What can we do?"

"It's cyanide poisoning," Alistair explained, quickly coming over to check Moira's pulse. "That's what they used. I've got antidote kits back in the plane, though."

"Good. Beast can help you with that. You two can get Moira and Banshee back to the plane. They need it the most. What about you?" she asked Havok.

"My head's killin' me, but I can stand a little more."

"Good. You're with me, then."

"But…Raven…the cyanide's still in your system. If you and Havok don't get the antidote soon, you'll-"

"Then we'll just have to work fast," Raven said, not allowing Beast to finish before handing Moira over to him.

"Wait," Moira tried to protest, her voice barely a whisper. "You might need me…"

"Don't worry," Raven reassured her, tapping her fingers against her temple, as Charles was prone to doing. "You're still in here."

"You still…need to get to Block 10."

"I remember," she said before turning her gaze up to Beast. "Take care of her."

"I will."

With that, the two groups parted ways: Beast, Moira, Banshee, and Alistair heading back to the plane…and Raven and Havok heading toward the infamous medical experimentation block.

XxX

Pele never really had a chance to behold what she'd helped to create. The moment Onslaught was in control, he was in her head.

_Try keeping me out __**now**__, girl!_ He snarled, forcing his way inside and raking telepathic talons through already painful memories. Again and again, he tore into her. _I will teach you to go where you're not wanted!_

As he slowly burned through her mind, he lifted her body into the air; then, when he'd finally finished with her, he flung her across the room. Her head cracked audibly as it connected with the wall. Then her body tumbled to the floor like a rag doll and she lay completely still.

Once again, Emma tried to step in, but the maddened telepath turned on her next, slamming her diamond body hard against the floor. It wasn't at all difficult for him to break through her diamond shield in his heightened state.

_Do you __**care**__ about the girl, Emma Frost?_ He asked, taunting her. _Somewhat at odds with what you've been trying to teach her, isn't it?_

"Charles?" Shaw's voice suddenly broke in. "I believe _I'm_ the one you want."

_**Shaw…**_

"Do you think I won't hurt you?" he hissed, slowly turning to face the older mutant. "Do you think because you brought this about I'll see you as some kind of ally?"

"No…in fact, I'd be most pleased if you'd kill me. It would mean you'd evolved past your bleeding heart. I'd welcome it. So kill me…and we'll see who you really are."

A smirk of anticipation lit the telepath's face as he began to move toward Shaw.

"As you wish."

Then, relishing every move, he used his telekinesis to lift the helmet from Shaw's head. Instantly, Shaw froze in place, standing in a relaxed position…the same smile fixed on his face.

What none of the others seemed to have noticed was that the moment Pele had lost consciousness, Erik had woken up. In the instant Charles had lost contact with his mind, Pele had shielded it with her own, keeping him prisoner in a cocoon of psychic energy…and rendering him unable to prevent Onslaught's awakening. As such, when he was suddenly set free, and he saw what Charles had become…all he could manage for several minutes was to stare at him in shock.

"Mein Gott," he whispered in horror. Charles was beautiful in this moment, resplendent with power…but it was also in this moment that Erik was faced with the understanding that an angel is both beautiful and terrible to behold…perfection and terror together as one.

Erik knew he was looking at the power to defeat the humans. They could do it…all of them, together…but Charles' precious life would be the cost, and Erik was no longer willing to pay such a price. Not for anything would he pay that price…not even to see Shaw dead…his only drive for so many long years. Charles would never forgive himself if he killed anyone while he was like this…even Shaw…so Erik couldn't let that happen.

This…transformation…had occurred because Charles had thought him dead, or at least mortally wounded. Therefore, he could think of only one way to reverse it.

As Charles faced down Shaw, salivating to make him pay for his crimes, Erik flung himself at him, wrapping his arms securely around his torso as he tackled him to the floor.

"Come back, Charles! I'm all right! _I'm all right!_"

Expecting a struggle, Erik hugged Charles to him as tightly as he was able.

"No!" Onslaught growled, briefly attempting to flay Erik's mind, as he'd done with Pele's. "You _won't_ send me back!"

Erik ignored the voice in his head…reaching out to Charles. He _knew_ he was still in there somewhere. He _had_ to be!

_Please…come back to me. Don't let him win. Don't go to that place. Come back…before it's too late._

For a moment, Erik caught a glimpse of the real Charles amidst Onslaught's blazing blue eyes.

"Erik…"

Then he received a very clear mental image of the telepath, his eyes sick with fear.

_I'm scared._

"I'm here," Erik whispered to him, kissing him gently on the lips.

In the moment their mouths met, Erik felt his embrace returned…not the struggling, but an honest-to-God embrace. Charles was clinging to him like he was the last solid thing in the world. When he finally pulled back, he could see that Charles was crying.

"What…what did I-" he struggled to get out.

"Later," Erik said tensely, scooping Charles up yet again. He could deal with Shaw later. Right now, he had to get Charles out of here.

"No," he heard Shaw saying to Emma. "Let them run. It makes the game more interesting. How's little Pele?" Erik didn't hear her response.

"Dead," Emma reported, her face unreadable as she checked the girl's vitals over and over again, finally seeming to admit defeat.

"Oh, poor child," Shaw said, shaking his head. The seeming display of sorrow was, however, completely counteracted by what he said next. "This is almost better than we could have hoped for, though. Charles will have no choice but to submit to me now. He's killed a child. You'll take care of the disposal, won't you?"

"Of course," Emma said, gently lifting Pele's small body into her arms. "Would you like me to do that now, or do you want to show him the body?"

"Ooh, wonderful idea, my dear."

"I suppose that means you'll want _that_ back," she said, nodding toward his fallen helmet.

"I don't think so. Charles is in no condition to resist me."

XxX

When Erik burst out of the cell and started to run back the way he'd come, he soon found his way blocked by an all-out war between Raven, Havok, Azazel, and Angel. While he was slightly irked to see the younger mutants, he was most dismayed to learn that the escape shoot had been accidentally demolished by a stray blast from Havok.

"Dummkopf!" he shouted at the boy, who was still fighting a furious battle with Azazel. "We need to get out of here _now_! Charles needs a doctor!"

"There's got to be more than one way out of here," Raven insisted, having no time for worry over her brother for her battle with Angel. "You'll have to find it!"

"Verdammt," the metal-kine growled, turning and heading off into what he was certain must be a veritable maze of underground passageways. Charles was weeping silently in pain all the way and Erik desperately wished there was something he could do to ease his suffering, but he knew the best thing for him would be to get him out of this place. He might have asked Charles to access someone's mind…except he didn't believe he was in any condition to right now. The transformation had weakened him significantly…much more so than he already had been by his ordeal, which was already considerable.

Charles was hanging on to life and sanity by a thread.

"Erik…Erik…?" Charles had to whisper several times before he heard him

"Hmm?"

"You should…leave me here. I'm not going to last…"

"Leave you here? Like _Hell_ I'm leaving you here," he snarled quietly. "May as well just lay down and die."

"Erik…please…please listen to me," he begged, the weak grip of his hand on his arm stopping Erik in his tracks. "There's something I didn't get to tell you…and it might be my only chance to say it…"

"Why are you saying this?" Erik asked, not meeting the telepath's eyes.

"If he finds us…I won't be able to resist him. So I wanted you to know…incase I never get to say the words again…I love you…Erik Lehnsherr. Promise me you'll remember that…no matter what happens."

"Charles…" Erik tried to speak, but found he couldn't through the lump in his throat. In response, he simply leaned down and kissed the crippled telepath.

"Well, if you've got time for that, you've certainly got time to hear what I have to say," Shaw's voice suddenly interrupted. Glancing back down the corridor they'd just come, Erik saw him and Emma heading toward them. The other telepath, not diamond at the moment, was carrying a small white bundle.

Briefly, Erik glanced around, finding only two other options: a corridor to his left and to his right.

"Don't bother," Shaw said, seeing what he was plotting. "They're both dead ends…only storage."

Growling low in his throat, Erik's only response was to hold Charles a little tighter against his chest.

"Can I ask you something, Charles? Even if our Erik does take you out of here tonight…where will you go? You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Look," he said, gesturing harshly toward Emma, who laid out her bundle, unwrapping her fine white cloak to reveal Pele…broken.

"Pele…?" Charles whispered, knowing what he was looking at, but unwilling to accept it

"She's dead. You _killed_ her. You killed a little girl, Charles Xavier."

Charles' cry of anguish had no sound or words. It simply filled their heads…a psychic scream of such despair and self-loathing, it brought Erik and Emma to their knees. Only Shaw remained upright.

_Murderer!_ Erik heard Charles scream over and over again. _Murderer! You're a murderer!_

"Who else might you kill if you're allowed to leave here? What other lives will you destroy? Where does it end? What about Erik? Will you kill him, too…someday?"

Horror-stricken, Charles turned his gaze up to Erik.

"Erik…my Erik…?" he whispered, his blue eyes consumed by terror.

"_Stop playing with his heart!_" Erik shouted.

"Playing with his heart? Nothing of the sort. I'm only…telling it like it is. You see, Charles, a wildfire destroys everything in its path. It will be the same for your powers unless you learn to control them. I can help you do that…unless you…don't _want_ this power, of course. In which case, I can just help you…end it here," Shaw said, extending an inviting hand out to the two of them.

It was no use, Erik realized as he looked down at the torn expression on Charles' haggard face. Shaw was relentless, and it seemed he wanted the young telepath's life…

…or worse, his fragile soul.

XxX

The battle with Azazel and Angel was not going well, to say the least. Raven and Havok were both getting dizzy, starting to choke on their own breaths. Azazel was only toying with Havok now, dancing about him with his powers while the boy struggled to use his properly.

Raven was fairing only slightly better, barely a step above being toyed with as Angel flitted around her, burning her. As she watched Angel teasingly flutter about with a smirk on her face, a great rage rose up inside the shape shifter. Darwin had died trying to save this girl…and she didn't even _care_! She was nothing but a vile traitor and she deserved every inch of what was coming.

"Maybe you should have learned to fly a little better, Raven," Angel taunted her, slowly coming in for the kill.

At the last possible moment, Raven shifted into Azazel. She couldn't teleport, of course, but she still had the tail. Whipping it forward, she wrapped the versatile appendage tightly around the former dancer's throat. As Angel clawed desperately at her tail, struggling to get free, Raven pulled her in close. Then she easily shifted back into her own naked, natural form, keeping only the tail.

"Hey, Angel? The name's Mystique."

Then, with a quick flex of muscle, Mystique tightened her tail and Angel's neck snapped.

As she allowed the dead girl to collapse on top of her, the tail slowly melted away and Mystique fell back, breathing heavily.

XxX

Before Charles really had a chance to react to Shaw's offer, Azazel appeared beside his associates, flinging Havok and Mystique onto the floor between them and Charles and Erik.

"Angel is dead," he reported. "The girl killed her."

"Raven?" Charles whispered, staring at his little sister in shock.

Briefly, Mystique looked guilty, but then she closed her eyes and shook her head, looking back at him with eyes as hard as flint.

"I'm not sorry, Charles."

"You see? This is what your training does. You teach them to kill each other. If you can't do it yourself, you'll just have them do it for you. Is that it?"

"No," Charles whispered, still staring at Mystique.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Charles. I can help you," Shaw reminded him, extending his hand yet again.

Erik knew Charles had been right before. He wouldn't be able to resist this. The two deaths had sealed his fate. Even now, he was looking up at Erik, his expression pleading.

"Erik…Erik, I _have_ to."

"I won't let you," Erik ground out, still glaring down Shaw. "He'll destroy you. You won't be the same anymore."

"But I…don't want to hurt you…or the children," he said, smiling, though his eyes were red from crying.

"Mystique, is it?" Shaw asked, suddenly turning his attention to her. "Where's your precog friend?"

Mystique's first thought was to ask how he knew, but of _course_ he knew, because Emma was right there. She'd brought the whole thing about.

"She's safe," she said, getting slowly to her feet, swaying on them for several minutes.

"Really? That's too bad. I could find all manner of uses for a precog."

"Don't touch her!" Mystique warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Ooh…I like this one, Charles. She really _is_ vicious."

"ENOUGH!" Erik roared. "I _won't_ let you have him…not this time."

With that, Erik focused his powers on the walls around them, tearing through the structure and drawing it inward, creating a solid metal barrier between the two groups.

_You really make me laugh, little Erik_, Shaw's voice sounded in their heads, projected by Emma. _Just because you escape doesn't mean you ever really leave here. You should know that better than anyone._

_We can damn well try_, Erik shot back through the connection as he gently laid Charles on the floor, apologizing as he went. _I'm sorry, but I'm going to need all my focus for this._

_What if…I __**can't**__ control it?_

Even if Erik had had an answer for Charles, it would have been drowned out by Shaw's parting words.

_You cannot escape it, Charles. Pele and Angel are dead because of you._

_Oh, God…_

"What are you doing?" Havok coughed, not standing in order to avoid the dizzy episode Mystique was having.

"Getting us out of here," Erik explained, using his power to do what he'd just done to the other two corridors, creating a small capsule for them. "What happened to _you_?"

"Cyanide," Mystique explained, stumbling over to her brother. "Azazel trapped us in the gas chamber. Beast is working on an antidote, but we need to get it soon."

Not yet sure how he felt about that, Erik just nodded, methodically blocking out the world around him and taking in only what his mutant sense could perceive. In order to get out of here, he was going to have to fight against the weight of the Earth pressing down on them. Smiling tearfully as he did so, he summoned up his image of Charles.

_I love you…and now I know you love me, too…but you're going to die if I don't get you out of here._

As he held the ultimate pain and the ultimate joy balanced in his mind, the metal vessel slowly began to push up through the Earth.

Erik had no idea how long he worked at it, forcing his way up through the barely yielding layers, but when he finally felt the makeshift craft break the surface, he tore the hull open, letting in fresh air as he collapsed to his knees.

_Are you all right?_ Charles asked him, worry in his eyes. Erik nodded.

_Just tired._

As Erik worked to pick Charles up as gently as he could, Mystique and Havok also had to work to regain their footing and climb out of the small vessel. Even though Charles managed to keep quiet this time, Erik could still see the tears squeezing from his eyes as his knees bent.

"It'll be okay," he soothed. "I'm going to get you some help."

Charles didn't respond. All he did was cling to Erik a little tighter.

"Erik!" Mystique shouted. "You might want to get out here!"

Hearing the worry in her voice, Erik quickly followed the younger mutants outside…only to find them face to face with Emma Frost, holding Pele's shrouded body.

"You're a little late."

"You try pushing straight through twenty-five feet of dirt sometime and see how much _you_ like it. Why are you here?"

Her face as unreadable as ever, Emma held the little girl's body out to Mystique. "Take her with you."

"What? Do you want us to bury her for you?" Erik asked, his voice low with rage. He couldn't deny he was angry that they'd just written the girl off as they had…but neither could he say he was surprised.

"She isn't dead. Take her with you," the telepath repeated.

"Not…dead…?" Charles whispered, his eyes slowly opening.

"Why did you tell Shaw she was?" Erik asked suspiciously.

"Her injuries are severe. If she stays here, she _will_ die. Because of what she is for Xavier, Sebastian would have let her die anyway."

"Why?" Mystique asked, finally taking Pele from Emma. "Won't you get in trouble for this?"

"Only if he finds out," she replied, wasting no more words before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

"Where are we?" Havok asked.

"Outside the camp. This complex is large," Erik explained.

"Do you think you could find your way back to the plane from here?" Mystique asked.

"Yes," he said, setting off immediately, confident the others would follow. He nearly shuddered to think of just how well he knew this area.

There were things the other two wanted to ask him; he could tell, but he didn't really know how he'd answer them, so he was grateful they remained silent. All he could seem to concern himself with as they moved through the darkness was how disturbingly light Charles felt in his arms…the hopeless way his head rested against his chest. He _wanted_ to talk to him…to hear his voice again after what felt like months…to be reassured that he was _okay_…except there _was_ no such reassurance. He was _not_ okay. Erik couldn't be certain if he would _ever_ be okay again. Pele's survival would protect a part of his sanity, but he couldn't be sure how much…if it would even be enough. He couldn't really _think_ about anything that had happened tonight. If he did, he would surely go mad himself. All he could do was focus on Charles…on getting him to safety…getting him _stabilized_.

_Hold on_, he urged in his mind. _Just hold on a little longer._

He never got the words directly from Charles' mind. What he got instead were images…impressions…feelings…the two of them together…smiling…happy…the night before Cuba…

_I love you._

_**Please…****please**** don't give up!**_

He was so wrapped up in anchoring Charles to him with the strength of the mental connection, he very nearly walked past the plane. Only the sound of the others rushing toward them made him realize they'd arrived. Alistair came to take Pele from Mystique and she collapsed gratefully into Moira's waiting arms. Blind as she was, she managed to lead her friend into the aircraft. Banshee came to help the staggering Havok aboard, and Beast tried to take Charles from him, but he wasn't having any of that.

"I've got him," he insisted, carrying his telepath onto the plane.

"Erik, I need to examine him. He looks like he's in pretty bad shape," Beast tried to argue.

"Not until we're in the air," Alistair said firmly. "We're taking off the moment that antidote is administered."

"What's wrong with the kid?" Banshee asked, looking at the little girl in Moira's lap.

"Head injury," Erik answered tersely. "Keep her stable if you can."

As Alistair had promised, the plane was ready for takeoff the moment Beast had given Mystique and Havok shots of the antidote. Erik was the only one who didn't bother with any sort of restraints, as he knew he would have had to let go of Charles in order to do that. He simply magnetized himself to the seat, holding Charles securely in his arms. The telepath hadn't acknowledged anyone else. He simply let Erik hold him, clinging to him with his face buried in his chest. He made no sound as he cried, but Erik could feel the salt water soaking through his shirt.

The takeoff was much bumpier than any of them were used to, but there wasn't a whole lot to be done when the only strip they had was a section of bare field. Erik held Charles stable all the while, stroking his hair and rubbing his back, whispering soothingly to him. He really didn't care if anyone else saw at this point.

"It's okay. It's all right. It's over now."

It was a blatant lie, of course. It could never be over…not really. They would both carry it with them for the rest of their lives…but if Erik knew how to do one thing, it was survive. Now he had to teach Charles to do the same…to survive…no matter how much you might wish you were dead.

_I __**should**__ be dead_, Charles' despairing voice was suddenly in his head. _Erik…I love you…but I should be dead._

"Nein," he whispered fiercely, burying his face in Charles' dark hair. "Nein! Ich liebe dich! Ich liebe dich! Bitte stirb nicht! Bitte!"

XxX

(A/N) Yeah, this chapter's a bit longer than the others, but I'd been thinking of cutting off before Mystique killed Angel…and ultimately decided that would be cruel.

(looking guilty) So…did I go too far with the gas chamber? I guess I just figured…battle in Auschwitz…what else are you gonna do?

Translations: Liebkind = loving child (essentially the equivalent of calling someone 'little one', as I understand it), Mein Gott = My God, Dummkopf = idiot, fool, stupid-head (you get the idea). Ich liebe dich! Ich liebe dich! Bitte stirb nicht! = I love you! I love you! Please don't die!

So…after being thoroughly broken, what's next for our heroes?


	11. Combination

(A/N) Again, we seem to have a pretty hefty chapter, but I suppose I felt it all needed to be contained in one chapter. I also feel like I should mention that Alistair and Dr. Kinross have Scottish accents, but I'm rubbish at writing accents, so…I'll leave it to your capable imaginations.

I suppose I should warn you I do use the word 'fag' in this chapter, but being one myself, for my purposes, it doesn't bother me. If it bothers anyone else, well…that's what the warning's for.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 11: Combination _

As the small plane ascended through the night air, its occupants were mostly silent, save for Erik's attempts to soothe Charles. Not daring to break the silence, Moira addressed Mystique through their link.

_Are you all right?_

_Why wouldn't I be?_ Mystique returned, not really looking at her.

_You __**have**__ just killed a person._

_You knew…didn't you. You knew it…this whole time…what would happen._

_I…guessed. The things I see…don't seem to be certain. The closer in time I am to an event, the more accurate I seem to be; but the farther off in the future it is…I start to see different paths…probabilities. I saw the timeline we're living now…but I also saw a future in which Erik wasn't able to save Charles…and he joined Shaw. There's a future where that might still happen. I can see what will happen to Charles if Pele dies…but there's also a future in which she lives. The true path only starts to emerge once all the pieces move into place at the correct point in time. Would it have somehow made you feel better…to know what might happen?_

_No,_ Mystique answered after a time, glancing over at the little girl in Moira's arms…Pele. She knew she _could_ be angry with Moira for not telling her, but it wouldn't help anything in the end. She could hardly blame her when she was so new to her abilities. She herself had had trouble controlling hers in the beginning. What Moira must be going through…seeing all these things and not knowing what she should and shouldn't say. _I already told Charles I'm not sorry. It wasn't fair for her to be alive and Darwin to be dead._

_But…is it all right for us to decide who lives and who dies?_ Moira wondered, turning her head in Pele's direction. There was no clear sign of injury, but Moira had seen what had happened to her in her visions. Her injuries were no doubt severe.

_It was me or her, Moira_, Mystique insisted…even though she _knew_ that wasn't what she'd been thinking at the time. It had been true, certainly…but it hadn't been what she was thinking.

"Where am I?" a little girl's voice asked. The two women looked down to see Pele's red eyes open.

"You're safe," Moira said.

"No…tell me where I am…_right now_!"

At that, everyone began to hear a strange white noise type sound in their heads…a screeching, shrieking sound that quickly reached an intolerable level. Almost instantly, the plane began to dip and swerve.

"Someone shut that bairn up!" Alistair shouted, struggling to keep control of his plane.

_Charles, I have to-_

_I know. Go to it. You're the only one she might listen to._

Not resisting as Erik set him in the seat next to him, Charles watched as the metal-kine struggled to reach the seats where Moira and Mystique sat. Kneeling next to Moira, Erik took Pele's hands in his.

"Pele," he ground out through the screeching in his head. "You're on a plane. You were severely injured in a fight with Onslaught. Emma Frost gave you to us in order to get you medical attention. Shaw was going to let you die."

As Erik spoke, the noise slowly died down, until Pele was left lying in Moira's arms, staring up at the ceiling.

"But…why would she do that?"

"The chief reason one does something like that is because they don't want the person to _die_."

"Emma's not like that, though. She would have let me die, too."

"Maybe you don't know her like you think you do?"

"Any of us would let the other die. It's the fate of the weak to perish."

"Apparently, they don't all believe that. Listen, Pele, how are you feeling?"

Scrunching her eyes shut, Pele slowly started to take stock. "My…my head's hurting so much."

"No surprise there. You should try not to move too much. It'll be a while before we can figure out the extent of your injuries."

Suddenly, Pele turned her head to the side and threw up onto the floor. At this, Beast undid his restraints and came to join them.

"Are you feeling nauseous at all?" he asked her.

"I'd think that was pretty obvious," Mystique said sarcastically.

"No," Pele said, surprising most of them. "Not at all. I just…threw up. I didn't feel even a little sick."

Beast nodded. "Increased intracranial pressure. Most likely, there's brain damage. Do you know where you were hit?"

"The back of my head…hit the wall," she explained quietly.

"Moira, can you help her sit up?"

Nodding, Moira did just that. Reading his intentions, Pele leaned forward, allowing him access to the back of her head. Gently, he felt along the scalp, through the hair.

"Swelling," he reported. "I can't see much through the hair, but the skull's probably fractured. If there _is_ brain damage, hopefully it's only a contusion and not hemorrhaging. We won't know until we can get a proper look. The best thing for you to do right now is sit still. Lean your head against Moira if you want, but keep as still as you can. Let me know if you experience any other symptoms."

"Okay," she said calmly, leaning against Moira.

"Your turn, Charles," Beast said, turning his attention to the professor. Charles said nothing, only nodded.

"He's sick," Erik said, hoping to expedite the process a little. "I don't know what with, but he's got a bad fever…and…Shaw broke his legs."

"Can you show me where?" Beast asked Charles…almost as if he were dealing with a child.

Charles just nodded at the useless limbs. "Everywhere. Upper, lower, knees, ankles…they're all fractured or twisted."

"Looks like you did something to your hand, too. And what's that?" Beast asked, starting to reach toward a particularly nasty cut that could be seen through the torn fabric of his uniform.

"Don't!" Charles barked, recoiling from his student's touch. Beast looked about to protest when Erik laid a warning hand on his shoulder.

"Leave it, kid. He's been through Hell."

"But I need to examine him. There might be permanent damage."

"For the last time…_leave it_," Erik ordered, the threat in his voice not at all subtle. He knew what that particular injury was from.

Shaking his head, Beast turned and headed up to the cockpit to confer with Alistair.

"Charles will be okay for now. I know he won't want to be sedated, but I can give him a few shots of painkillers. Pele's the one we need to worry about. I'm afraid she might have increased ICP due to one or more of her injuries, and that can be fatal if left untreated. I don't know how long she'll be able to handle it because I have no idea of the extent of the damage, but she'll at least be able to bear it for a longer period because she's younger. The point is that there isn't time to fly all the way back to New York. We need to get her some help as quick as we possibly can."

"So where do you suggest I fly to, lad? I might remind you I'm carrying the world's most wanted criminal onboard. Landing in sight of some legitimate medical facilities won't be easy."

"Ditch me, then," Erik suggested as he moved up toward them, having heard the bit of the conversation concerning him. "Toss me out of the plane."

"Are…are you _serious_?" Beast asked.

"Dead serious. If you can't land safely with me onboard, get rid of me. All I'd need is a few pieces of metal and I could land safely. I'd catch up with you in a few days." If his presence was going to prevent Charles from getting the care he needed, he would simply remove himself from the picture.

"Erik…don't…don't _leave_…"

Charles' voice was quiet, barely audible over the roar of the engines, but to Erik it was deafening. Slowly, he turned to look at the telepath, who was struggling to get out of his seat, despite his obvious pain.

"Charles, stop! You shouldn't move!" Erik half-shouted, running to catch him just before he crashed into the isle.

"You can't…you can't just leave," he cried, hugging Erik close to him as he situated him in the seat once more.

_I __**need**__ you._

_I'd see you again in just a few days._

_That…that's not what I mean. I mean…**him**…the onslaught. I don't…think I can contain him…not without you…_

That was true. Erik hadn't thought of that. As he looked down at Charles, he could see his eyes shining with unshed tears of fear and pain…but was there something else there, as well? The hidden blue flame of the young man's true power?

"All right," Erik capitulated, kneeling next to Charles and returning his embrace. "I won't go anywhere."

"Admirable as your determination to see Charles to the proper care is, we won't have to resort to something so drastic as that," Alistair reassured them. "There's still one other option left to us."

XxX

The Muir Island Research Facility had been founded during the war. Being off the northern coast of Scotland and far removed from the German air raids on the southern coast, it was an ideal location for research into biological warfare. After the war, however, the facility had started to take on more special cases. The British government's first encounters with mutants and mutant experimentation had taken place there. Things had been changing for the better, though, since Dr. Moira Kinross had come to head the facility. She had crusaded for the rights of the test subjects and had only kept open cases in which subjects had given informed consent to the testing.

Moira's son, Alistair Kinross, didn't know any of this, though. He only knew that his mother headed a semi-classified research facility and that she, being who she was, would almost certainly lend her skills as a surgeon to anyone in need. He had called ahead to inform her of the situation and she'd given clearance for him to land. As such, she was there waiting for them when they arrived early the next morning. Pele and Charles were both brought out of the plane on stretchers.

"Ah," the older woman started upon catching sight of Beast and Mystique. "You weren't kidding when you said this case was different. I see why you wanted to be met by just me."

"Mother, these-"

"No need to explain, lad. I know they're mutants."

"How do you know?" Erik asked. His suspicions had been running on high ever since Alistair had suggested the place. He had learned well to be wary of the term 'classified.'

"I've encountered mutants before. There are several here even now."

"Experimentation," Erik hissed, hunching protectively over Charles' stretcher.

The doctor's gaze instantly turned icy at Erik's reaction. "I'll thank you not to insult me, young man. I don't tolerate that sort of thing here. The mutants who are here are here because they want to be here. Besides, mutants are no longer any big secret to the world…not to those who listen, anyway. So, are you all mutants?" she asked the group at large.

"Yes…even me," their Moira said, stepping forward.

"Oh, my dear," the doctor exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as she ran forward, crushing the agent against her chest in what must surely have been a bruising hug. "My Rini! You've come back. Alistair, why didn't you say?"

"Hello, Mum," Moira said quietly, returning the hug.

"Moira?" Mystique asked, not quite comprehending.

"You might as well know. My real name is Irene Kinross. Moira is my mother's name. Alistair is my older brother," she explained. As she couldn't really see any of them, it wasn't all that hard to avoid looking at them.

"That…explains a lot, actually," Beast said slowly.

"My little girl…is _this_ why you ran away?" Dr. Kinross asked.

"No…this is new."

As Moira spoke, her mother looked up at her, realizing for the first time that her daughter couldn't see her.

"What happened to your eyes?"

"I don't know. I think it might be part of the mutation."

"Well, don't worry, darling. We'll have you fixed up in no time."

"Mum, there are more important things to worry about right now," she reminded her, nodding toward the two crippled mutants.

"Absolutely," the doctor said, turning her attention to them. "The girl first, you said? How are you feeling, little one?"

Pele gave the doctor a withering look. "My head was smashed against a wall. How do you _think_ I feel?"

At this, Dr. Kinross' expression immediately turned wry. "A telepath, are you? You'll be needing that pretty little head, then. Let's see what I can do to save it."

XxX

"Your assessment was correct, Dr. McCoy," Dr. Kinross began to explain to the group, going through a series of x-rays and other images. They were all gathered in a diagnostics ward with Pele and the doctor. "Pele has suffered a linear fracture to the parietal bone in her skull. The force of the blow also forced the brain against the interior of the skull, causing a cerebral contusion in the temporal lobe. Either of these injuries would heal fine on their own, except in this case, the displacement of blood in the brain is causing an increase in intracranial pressure. Cerebrospinal fluid will have to be drained off immediately in order to normalize the pressure."

"I'm right here, you know?" Pele called to her from the diagnostic table. "You don't have to talk about me as if I'm not."

"My apologies, little miss, force of habit. Most patients _don't_ like hearing that their heads will soon implode from pressure."

Pele snickered quietly. "I'm not afraid to die, Doctor. You can try to save my life if you wish, but you should know there won't be a big reaction one way or the other."

"That isn't true," Charles said quietly, looking at Pele, but not daring to read her thoughts. The others had tried to talk him into resting, but he'd insisted on being present. He was currently on a gurney, sitting up with Erik's help. Pele glared at him.

"And the only reason _you_ care is because if I die, it will mean you killed me."

Charles looked well and truly hurt by this and he had no words for it, but he didn't need any. Erik quickly jumped to his defense.

"I like you well enough, kid, but I'm telling you now, don't you ever…_ever_…say anything like that about Charles in my hearing. He cares about you…whether or not he should, brat that you are," he said, giving Charles' shoulder a comforting squeeze. Charles leaned into him a little more, placing a hand on top of his.

Pele continued to glare, but she said nothing more.

"Pele? I _am_ sorry, but I'll have to shave your head in order to perform this procedure," Dr. Kinross warned her.

"Go ahead," she said calmly. "It's hair. What do _I_ want with it?"

"If that's everything, I'll begin at once."

"There is…one thing. You do know…not to sedate her, right?" Charles asked.

"Normally, I wouldn't," the doctor said after several minutes of silence. "I know she's a telepath…but this is a very delicate procedure for someone so young. I actually have to open her head."

"_Don't_ sedate me," Pele said firmly. "It doesn't matter what you do; I can bear it. Numb it a little if you want, but _do not_ sedate me. Trust me…you don't want what's in my head to get out."

"I'll take full responsibility," Charles reassured her. "I'm asking you not to sedate her. It may affect your ability to perform the surgery if her mind starts bleeding into yours."

For several minutes, Dr. Kinross glanced back and forth between Pele and Charles before finally settling her gaze on the young girl and sighing.

"Fine…if that's what you want. You seem tough enough, little miss. You've already survived the injuries that caused this. Perhaps you can stand a little more?"

XxX

The surgery went off fairly smoothly. Everyone except Beast, Charles, and Erik had been sent off to a waiting room. Beast had stayed to assist Dr. Kinross and Charles and Erik had stayed incase something…outside their scope were to occur.

Dr. Kinross had started by shaving off Pele's lovely dark curls, then numbing the scalp before entering the skull below the fracture and inserting a catheter into the lateral right ventricle of the young telepath's brain, setting up an external ventricular drain in order to relieve the deadly buildup of pressure. Pele had remained calm throughout, but Dr. Kinross' thoughts had been so loud, Charles couldn't help but overhear them.

_Who could do this to a child?_

_It was an accident_, he'd repeated to himself almost constantly…even though he knew it wasn't true. Even though Onslaught's memories were vague, he _knew_, in that brief span of time he'd lost himself…he'd truly meant to kill this little girl.

Once the catheter was secure and draining off the bloody cerebrospinal fluid, Beast was left to tend the drain while Dr. Kinross led Erik and Charles to another room.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Xavier, but you've got cuts everywhere. I'm afraid you're going to have to undress for this. I'll be back in a few minutes," she told them before leaving.

A few moments of awkward silence followed, with Charles sitting on the gurney and Erik standing next to him.

"Can…can you help me?" Charles eventually made himself ask, his face red with shame.

"Sure," Erik said, waiting patiently for Charles to get out of the upper portion of the suit before gently starting to work the tattered fabric down around his injured legs. Once he'd gotten the ragged thing all the way off, he moved his hands back up, placing them on the younger man's underwear and looking him in the eyes. "Do these need to come off?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Charles eventually nodded. "It…it's mostly just tender…but she did some damage in back."

Erik said nothing, just nodded before slowly removing the last piece of clothing. A small strip of paper had been left for Charles to cover himself with and Erik took care of this. His task done, he wrapped his arms around Charles, allowing him to rest his head against his chest. He could see Charles was struggling to keep it together and he wanted to offer him whatever comfort he could, even though he knew it wouldn't be much in the face of what he'd been through.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, then?" the doctor's voice suddenly interrupted them.

On instinct, Erik's embrace tightened. "Got a problem with that?" he demanded quietly, not turning to look at her.

"No need to be so defensive, lad. I've no problem with two people being in love, no matter who they be. Not something I ever found for myself, so treat it like the treasure it is."

_I intend to,_ Erik thought warmly, projecting that warmth into Charles' mind. Saying nothing, the telepath returned a flickering warmth of his own, snuggling a little closer to the metal-kine.

"Thankfully, none of these cuts appear to be infected. The environment you were held in must have been sterile. I _will_ need to stitch several of them, though, before I can set your legs. Are you ready for this?" she asked.

"Yes," Charles answered after several moments of heavy silence. Erik started to pull away, but Charles seized his hand before he could. "No…please stay…" he whispered, looking at neither Erik nor Dr. Kinross.

Erik glanced at her, silently asking for permission, to which she nodded her consent. Moira Kinross knew a rape victim when she saw one. So Erik remained, holding Charles' hand.

In order to take his mind off of things, Charles turned his thoughts back to something that had been bothering him. "How did you know?" he asked the doctor.

"How did I know what?" she returned, not looking up from her work.

"That Pele was a telepath. You knew almost instantly."

"No bairn of seven speaks like that. I've encountered telepaths before and those who gain the ability at a young age have full access to the knowledge and experiences of the people around them. They can never return to the closed, private world of a child. It's extremely apparent in one so young for those who care to look. I imagine _you_ were much the same as a child."

Charles stiffened at this…and he felt Erik's hand stiffen in his. "And how did you identify _me_ so easily? I am _not_ a child."

"Compared with me, lad, you be a child indeed. I might not have guessed it, though…except that I heard you screaming when we were in surgery with Pele."

Even though he squeezed his eyes shut, Charles couldn't stop all the tears that came. Who else had heard? Turning a questioning gaze over to Erik, he saw the older man nod, but then he reached his free hand forward to wipe the tears from his face, leaning in to gently kiss his temple.

_You're __**not**__ weak,_ he insisted, answering a question Charles hadn't dared to ask. _You've been hurt. You can scream and cry as much as you want. If anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with __**me**__._

He didn't _want_ to cry. He was a grown man…and he should handle this like an adult…but Erik's offer was too tempting. So, while Moira Kinross continued to piece his body back together, Charles Xavier, selfish for once in his life, buried his face in Erik's shoulder and wept…soaking his shirt in memory of the man he might have been had this not happened…weeping for Erik, and for what their relationship might have grown to become had this terrible thing never happened.

_We're…broken…aren't we…_

_Yes,_ Erik answered honestly. _But broken things can be fixed. __**You**__ taught me that._

XxX

_For years…so many years…Erik has dreamed of the moment of his mother's death. He hadn't seen the moment itself, but his mind has supplied the images, and the final image is his to remember for an eternity…her eyes, wide, staring, and empty. _

_Tonight is different, though. She's smiling…happy…her arms wide open to greet him as he runs to her._

"_Mama!" he cries, sweeping her up in his arms. He no longer fits her embrace as he did when he was a boy._

"_Mein sohn," she whispers fondly in his ear. "My grown up son."_

_He doesn't care if he's dead or alive, or if she's dead or alive. He's just so happy to see her._

"_Mama…I missed you so much," he cries as he sets her back on her feet._

"_Silly boy. I hope that isn't **all** you've been doing with yourself," she chastises him affectionately. _

"_What was I supposed to do?" he demands, suddenly feeling guilty. "Herr Doktor **killed** you!"_

"_I know that, but I never wanted this for you, child…this mercenary's life you've been living. The Xavier boy's been good for you."_

_A fresh wave of guilt washes over Erik…for a completely different reason this time._

"_Mama…I'm sorry."_

"_For what, liebkind?"_

"_I had a chance to kill Schmidt…more than one…and I gave them all up…to save Charles."_

"_Why on God's green earth would you apologize for that?"_

"_I promised I'd avenge you…all of you…and I gave that up for the sake of one man."_

_Shaking her head, his mother pulls his face down close to hers, pressing their foreheads together. "You're in love with Charles Xavier…aren't you?" she asks, and unlike Shaw, whose tone had been mocking and tormenting, her tone is warm…pleased._

"_I want to protect Charles…so much…it's covering your part of my heart," he admits to her._

"_That's as it should be. You shouldn't spend your life grieving…living in the past. You can't always be torn in two. If you must kill the doctor, do it because you want to protect the one you care for, not to avenge people who are already dead and buried."_

"_I went back to the camp…to Auschwitz," he says, his eyes going distant. "I didn't…know I **could**. Your ashes are there…yours and Papa's…but all I could think about was Charles…saving him. Was it wrong of me to forget?"_

"_Nein, mein liebkind," she says, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "You **should** be able to move on with your life. I **want** you to think of the one you love before you think of me. I **want** you to be happy. Please…live your life. Live your life with him…and show him how to live with himself."_

"_You think someone like me can do that?"_

"_Of course. You said it yourself…and what am I but a reflection of you?"_

XxX

"_You didn't escape me, you know?"_

_The voice sounds in his head…everywhere…digging into him…into his very being. He **knows** he will never be free of it._

"_I know that," he whispers. "When did I give the impression I **wanted** to? Everything that's happened…I **should** be punished."_

"_Not punished. Never punished. Why don't you see what I'm trying to do, Charles? All you need is to learn how to properly control that power."_

"_No! That power should never see the light of day!" he hissed._

"_It isn't going to just go away. It's a **part** of you. What do you think you can do?"_

"_What I said before. I will **kill** myself before I let **you** touch it."_

"_No, you won't. You wouldn't do anything that would hurt our Erik so deeply."_

"_Maybe I would…if I thought it would save him."_

"_He is well past saving…as are you, my dear Charles," Shaw whispers. Again, Charles can feel his hands on him._

"_That's not true," he says…trying to ignore it…trying not to think about it. "He didn't kill you when he could have. He really is the better man."_

"_Maybe he didn't kill me…but he **did** kill a whole city full of defenseless people. Such tragedy…such violence…all in the name of love. How does **that** make you feel?"_

"_It wasn't…his fault," the telepath grinds out._

"_Whosoever is to blame…it was still done for your sake. Thousands of lives have been sacrificed on your altar…and there will be many thousands more. Whether you like it or not, Charles, I've won. You and Erik…I created the both of you; you belong to **me**, and I **will** have you…Onslaught."_

Charles' psychic screams woke the entire facility, visions filling their heads along with the terrible sounds…violent assaults…and a burning power so strong it could put out the very sun.

The telepathic disturbance didn't last long, though. Erik was already right there with him. He'd been asleep in a chair next to his bed.

"Charles!" he shouted, seizing his shoulders. "Wake up!"

The telepath's eyes burst open, and for one horrifying moment, Erik saw the blue flame signifying that Onslaught was present. Quickly, he pressed his forehead against Charles' and took his face in his hands.

"Come back," he said firmly. "Come back, Charles. You _can't_ give in to it now."

…_not when I fought so hard to get you back._

Erik knew he'd succeeded when he felt tears on his face. Charles was crying again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," the telepath whispered over and over again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he whispered back, gently stroking his hair. "Just woke me up. Probably everyone else, too."

"God…I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he soothed. "It was a nightmare…just a nightmare."

"I'll never…be able to get away from it," he said, his tears slowing to a trickle as he wrapped his arms around the taller man. "Every time I go to sleep…or I'm alone with myself…he'll always be there…always in my head…"

"Yes," Erik said quietly. He couldn't lie to Charles about this. "Always…year after year…always with you…mocking you…telling you how _weak_ you are…but you _can't_ give in."

_You can't become what I did…not you. He __**can't**__ take you from me. I won't let him._

_I'm afraid you might already be too late…my love._

Erik hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to hear those two words until that moment. Closing the last few inches between them, he pressed his lips to Charles' once again…and Charles kissed back, clinging to him as tightly as he could, in spite of all the bandages his body was adorned with.

They might have remained like that for a minute or a month; neither really knew. They were ignorant of the world around them until the rather distinct sound of Banshee clearing his throat came between them. The two looked up to see their friends standing in the doorway to the recovery room, along with Dr. Kinross and Alistair.

"Well?" Erik asked, like they ought to know what he was talking about and they _hadn't_ just caught the two of them trading saliva after what was most likely the most violent psychic experience any of them had ever encountered. "Are you going to make yourselves useful or not? Go get some broth." Because of how malnourished he'd been the past few weeks, Dr. Kinross had placed Charles on a liquid diet until he could handle more solid foods again. He'd tried some soup earlier, but had promptly thrown it back up.

Banshee and Havok scurried off immediately, neither really knowing what to say…though Havok's voice carried back pretty distinctly, even though he probably hadn't meant it to.

"So…they're fags?"

"Leave it _alone_, Havok," Mystique called warningly over her shoulder. Alistair decided that he'd better follow them at that point…to make sure nothing happened between there and the kitchen.

"How's Pele?" Charles asked, his face slightly red, though he hoped they couldn't see it in the dim light.

"She's fine," Beast answered. "She was a little shaken by it, but the drain's still stable. I…I think I'd better go help the others," he squeaked before disappearing…and one way or another, hearing someone like Beast squeak was amazing in and of itself.

"So you're doing all right, then?" the doctor asked.

"I've got it under control," Erik said.

"I guess you don't need my help," she said, heading off again. This left only Moira and Mystique.

"Raven, I…I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Charles said quietly.

Mystique considered him a moment before shaking her head and sighing. No one could quite see it, but she was smiling. "It's all right. When would you have? I can't say I'm as surprised as all that. Though…Erik…you _do_ realize I'm going to have to kill you if you hurt him, right?"

Sizing the shape shifter up, Erik gave a small smirk of his own. "Point taken. I believe you might actually be able to pull it off if you had a mind to."

"And Charles…Mystique. Just Mystique…because it's the name I chose for myself."

"That's…what you really want?"

"Yes. Raven is the name my _parents_ gave me. I've got my own name now…and I'm going to use it," she said firmly.

"All right…Mystique," he acknowledged quietly, knowing how serious she was when she brought up her parents. She loathed the family that had tried to kill her with all of her being. "It _is_ a beautiful name. It suits you."

Charles didn't know when he'd ever seen a smile so bright on his little sister's face as she took Moira by the hand and led her away, leaving the two of them alone once more.

"She needed that…more than you know."

"Yes…but she has done some growing up this past month. I can see; she's different," Charles said, at once happy and sad, missing the little girl he'd grown up with…but proud of the woman she was becoming. "It's good. The team will need a leader."

"_You're_ our leader, Charles," Erik said firmly. Charles couldn't help the way his heart melted at hearing Erik count himself among them.

"Maybe I was…but I don't think I can be anymore…not when Shaw can break me with a word."

"You don't have to worry about that…because _I'm_ going to be here to protect you…always," Erik said, enfolding the telepath in his arms once more.

"You…promise?" Charles asked, remembering how afraid he'd been that Erik would leave them…leave _him_.

"On my mother's ashes," he swore solemnly, gently kissing the younger man's ear. Charles could barely contain his elation. With this promise, he suddenly felt he could endure almost anything…maybe even Onslaught.

"Erik…would…would you sleep with me?"

Erik took a step back, giving Charles an odd look. "I take it you mean in the bed with you…because you're certainly not in any condition to be doing anything else."

Smiling weakly, Charles nodded. "That _is_ what I meant."

"Okay," Erik consented, helping Charles to scoot over some before climbing into the bed with him, being careful of the casts on his legs. Thankfully, nothing had required surgery. The tendons in his knees had only been partially torn and would heal with physical therapy. Charles would be in a wheelchair for several weeks, but he would eventually regain the use of his legs.

"I know I sent the boys to get some broth, but I guess I should have asked you first…_do_ you want to try eating something?"

"Might as well try," Charles said, snuggling up to his lover as best he could. "I don't think I'll be sleeping again any time soon."

"So what are we going to do about Pele?" Erik asked, knowing the little girl wasn't the happiest of subjects, but still hoping to draw Charles away from his earlier dark thoughts.

"Bring her back to Westchester with us," the professor said automatically. "She needs a home…and she needs help. Perhaps we can give her some proper training…and some schooling while we're at it. Maybe we can…find others like her…help them, too…before Shaw gets to them. We could rebuild Cerebro-"

"Getting a little ahead of yourself there, aren't you?" Erik said with a slightly teasing grin.

"Why not? We've certainly the space on the grounds for it."

"It isn't just Shaw we'd need to protect them from, though, Charles," Erik said slowly, not entirely certain how to broach the next subject. "The humans…really did try to kill us that day…all of them. No one hesitated. Are you still so sure they'll allow us to live?"

After several moments of thought, Charles finally nodded. "I believe they will…only…not yet. The world isn't ready for us yet. It isn't something that happens overnight…but until that day comes, we'll have to look out for each other."

Erik disagreed. In fact, he felt certain it was something he and Charles would always disagree on, but he also knew that now wasn't the time for it…not while Charles was still recovering…and who knew how long it would take him to _truly_ recover? There were many things still unsaid between them…issues that needed resolving…but none of that mattered right now because they were just so relieved to be with one another. In this moment, Charles knew that the doubt Shaw had instilled in him had no meaning here. It didn't matter what his original intentions had been, because now, here in this moment, he loved Erik. He loved him with all of his being…and that was all that mattered. He cherished this man, and he wanted to remain by his side until his dying day…whether that was tomorrow or fifty years from now.

_I __**do**__ need to atone for the things I've done, Sebastian Shaw…but I'm not going to do that with __**you**__. I'm going to do it my own way…with Erik by my side._

By the time the boys returned with the requested broth, the two men were already sleeping soundly in each other's arms.

XxX

It took several days for Pele's brain to stabilize, but once the contusion was mostly healed, Dr. Kinross took the girl off the drain with warnings to be careful of the back of her head.

In roughly the same amount of time, Charles' fever broke and he was able to keep food down. About a week after they'd arrived at Muir Island, Dr. Kinross allowed him out of the recovery room in a wheelchair with Erik accompanying him. It was also on this day they sought out Pele.

They found the young telepath in one of the facility's many small side gardens, admiring a rose bush. When she saw them, Charles instantly saw the flower's image in his mind's eye and heard the word '_rose_.'

"You've never seen one before?" he asked her.

"Maybe I have…a long time ago. I don't remember. They only ever brought me above ground at night. There are many things I don't remember ever seeing…except as pictures in their minds."

"Would you…like to see more?" he continued slowly. Pele looked him in the eyes, her bloody gaze made all the more eerie by the loss of her hair, and easily read his intentions. Even after what had happened to her last time she'd messed around in his head, she was unapologetic about her actions. Pele had no fear of pain; Shaw had burnt it out of her.

"Why would you show me such mercy? I would have killed Erik if Sebastian had asked me to."

"I know that…but I'm not Shaw, and I want you to know that not everyone is like that."

"You have it in you to be like him, you know?"

"I do. That's why I'm asking for your help."

Again, she read his thoughts, her eyes widening indignantly. "Why on Earth would I do something like _that_?"

"What were you thinking?" Erik asked him.

"He wants me to seal the Onslaught persona."

"You _can_ do it, can't you?" Charles asked, speaking in an almost challenging tone.

"Of _course_ I can do it, but why would you _want_ such a power sealed? You could have anything you wanted."

"I already have what I want…what I need," he said, reaching for Erik's hand, and he took it gladly. "The rest will come _without_ that power."

"It can never be _gone_, you know? No psychic barrier I can create could lock it away forever. If you ever truly have need of it…ever call on it in a moment of weakness…it could easily break free," she warned him.

"Hopefully, such a time will never come, but right now…I'm just not strong enough to control it. Maybe someday I will be, but as I am now, it would overwhelm me…and I'd be lost to it. I need time to develop my own abilities and my own will. Can you give me that, Pele?"

Taking several long minutes to think over his words, Pele finally looked up at the professor again, nodding. Being careful of his casts, she climbed up and settled her slight body onto his lap. Then she placed her hands at his temples, reaching for his mind with her own.

Charles opened his mind to her completely. Had she been any other child, there was much he would have held back, but she _wasn't_ just any child. If he wanted this to work, he would have to trust her absolutely…with everything he was.

Working slowly to be sure she didn't miss anything, Pele gathered up the strands of Onslaught she found scattered throughout Charles' psyche. She witnessed the true depth of his regret over what had happened. Briefly, they both felt him try to resist, but Pele wove her wall well, entrapping the entity as deep in Charles' mind as she could manage without risking altering it in some way. For a brief moment, she was able to bask in the glory and the terror of him…and in that moment, she thought she saw him smirking at her…like he knew something she didn't. Unable to explain the shudder that ran through her, Pele closed the psychic prison, sealing away the burning radiance in her fellow telepath's mind.

"Thank you, Pele," he said to her once their minds had separated. Then he gently took her hands in his. "I suppose you know what my final request is."

"Yes," she said, not quite looking at him. "So tell me…why I should let you do that."

"Because you're not a weapon, dear heart. You're a _girl_…and you deserve a chance to be that little girl. I won't erase your memory; I promise. You are who you are and I have no right to take that away from you."

"How do I know this won't be permanent?"

Charles shook his head, smiling sadly as he did so. "For someone who's capable of seeing the best in people, you're awfully cynical."

"With that comes the ability to see the worst, as well," she reminded him.

"True enough. Pele…as I can throw off your blocks…you would also be able to throw off mine if you really had to. All I'm asking you for is one year…one year to prove Shaw wrong."

"And if you don't?" she asked, her eyes so narrow, they were mere slits in her face.

"Then you can go your own way…exactly as you wish. I'll lift the blocks. I won't try to stop you."

For a moment, Pele looked utterly torn. Her eyes opened wide and she really looked like a seven-year-old girl. She gripped Charles' hands tightly, and for a second, it looked like she meant to burn him again…but then, not looking at him, she hissed, "Fine. _Do it!_"

Working quickly, before she could change her mind, Charles reached into her head with his power, setting up some blocks of his own. Again, her red eyes widened in fear, she gasped, and then slumped forward against Charles, unconscious. He grunted slightly in pain, but he supported her comatose weight gracefully, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her close to him.

"What…what did you _do_ to her?" Erik asked, shocked by what he'd just seen.

"I sealed away her mutant powers," he answered, not looking at him.

"You…_what_?"

"I severed her connection to her telepathic abilities."

"You can _do_ that?"

"Yes. Well…that _should_ be how it works. I've never actually done it before."

"But…_why_? She's a mutant. She has every right to those powers."

"You're right…she does, but so far, all her gift has done is bring her pain. What has _your_ gift brought _you_?" Charles asked, his voice harsh, not with reproach, but with the pain Erik knew he felt for him.

"It's made me strong," he insisted. Almost as if for emphasis, the metal in Charles' chair began to rattle.

"Those are the exact words _she_ used," Charles said, cradling Pele against his chest. "And you and I both know they came from _his_ mouth."

Erik wanted to protest…but he knew he couldn't. The truth of what he had become stared him in the face as he watched Charles hold Pele…shelter her from the world…though he was fragile, himself. Again and again, he was slapped in the face by just how far he had fallen.

"It was something…Dr. Kinross said…that made me think of it…about young telepaths having no world of their own. It's true. I almost wish there'd been someone to make such a choice for me when I was a child. Pele _deserves_ to have a childhood…after what she's suffered. I _know_ you want that for her, too. She needs a chance to be free of the curse that burdens her…at least until she's ready to bear it. I want her to see…that there's another way to live…and that way can't be seen through the eyes Shaw's given her. It won't be forever, Erik."

"Just a year," Erik said quietly, kneeling beside the two of them.

"Not a minute longer."

"You know, Charles," Erik started, reaching forward to stroke the telepath's cheek, "has anyone ever told you you'd make a good mother?"

Charles' face instantly went bright red, the tension in the air broken. "That…would certainly be the first time anyone's ever told me anything like that."

"Well, it's true," he said, leaning in over Pele to kiss him. When they separated for air, though, they kept their foreheads pressed together…and Erik began to whisper something to Charles.

"_Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar…but do not doubt I love._"

"Shakespeare?" Charles said quietly as he looked into the other man's steely eyes. "I didn't know you were a fan."

"Are you joking? The pathos is absolutely brilliant," the metal-kine said with a small grin.

"Hamlet, no less," Charles said, smiling as he shook his head…the most famous revenge tragedy of them all.

Some things never changed.

XxX

(A/N) Well, I think the next chapter will probably be the last one. Let us not mistake this for a happy ending, my friends. It's simply the eye of the hurricane. There will be a whole other story about our favorite mutants dealing with the events of this one. I've got _lots_ of ideas.

Notes: _Bairn_ = Scottish slang for 'baby', often taken to mean 'little one', as well. _Sohn_ = son.

I don't pretend to be a med student of any kind, so if I've screwed up any of the medical babble, feel free to let me know.


	12. Unlock the Last Door

(A/N) As always, glad you're all still enjoying. Here be the last chapter of the first story.

**The Key To My Heart**

_Chapter 12: Unlock the Last Door_

The group remained on Muir Island for about another week…a week Beast spent touring the facility and working closely with Dr. Kinross…a week in which they learned that Moira's optic nerves had simply died and there was no hope for her eyesight. She had already known this, of course, but she let them try anyway. _She_ spent the week getting better acquainted with her new version of sight, using it as a practical means of getting around so she wouldn't have to depend quite so heavily on Mystique, though the two women would certainly admit they'd come to enjoy their closeness.

Charles and Erik spent the week learning the physical therapy exercises Charles would need in order for his legs to get better, and when they weren't doing that, they were with Beast making plans for the new Cerebro, or with Pele in her room, convincing her that just because she could no longer read people's thoughts, it didn't mean they were plotting against her. Helping Pele wasn't going to be easy, they knew, but they were both willing to give it their all.

When Dr. Kinross finally pronounced both Charles and Pele fit enough to return home, though, there was another problem for them to worry about. Erik was a wanted fugitive in at least four different countries. Even if he hid out at the Xavier mansion, it wouldn't be long before _someone_ found him. Moira was the one who finally came up with the solution to their problem.

XxX

"You're sure he's dead?" the director asked Moira, staring at her suspiciously, even though the bandages wrapped around her eyes made it perfectly plain she couldn't see him. "There's no way he could have escaped?"

"None whatsoever," Moira assured him. "I saw him fall into the fire myself. Erik Lehnsherr may have been bulletproof, but even _he _couldn't withstand fire."

"And you saw this _before_ you took the hot ashes to the eyes?" Agent Stryker asked her. "I don't know if I buy this."

"It's what I saw," she returned indignantly. The story they were going with was that there had been a fire in the underground complex and Erik had perished in it.

"Whatever happened is good enough for me so long as he doesn't show his face again. Though…MacTaggart…you _do_ realize your days as an agent are over, right?"

"I know that," she said quietly.

"We'll arrange a modest retirement fund for you. Even though you were injured while you were out against orders, you _did_ assist in the neutralization of a dangerous criminal."

"Thank you, Sir," she replied. It was too dangerous for her to remain with the CIA. They all knew it. Certainly, it would have been a valuable source of information, but the story they'd concocted to explain her "injury" would never wash with her coworkers at close quarters. They would figure out her secret eventually.

"Well…if that's everything, I suppose you're free to go, MacTaggert. Do you…need someone to escort you out?" the director asked awkwardly.

"No, Raven's waiting for me. She'll see I get home," the former agent said as she stood from the table. As she turned to leave, though, Stryker stood, as well.

"MacTaggert…if I ever find out you've lied to us, even a little…if I ever find out Erik Lehnsherr's still alive…I promise you you're going to regret this day."

"There's no need for that, Agent Stryker," she said calmly, not evening turning back to him. "After all, he _is_ dead."

Moira pretended to fumble a little, even though she knew exactly where the door was. She _did_ have to keep up appearances. Mystique was waiting just outside the interrogation room…waiting to take her back to Westchester…back to her new family.

XxX

Erik was, of course, not really dead. In fact, he seemed to be more alive than ever. Even with Charles in the wheelchair, the two of them seemed to be everywhere at once, beginning to implement Charles' plans for the mansion, even though there was already snow on the ground. Also, as Charles slowly made the progression back toward more solid foods, Erik discovered a love of cooking he never would have even guessed he possessed. He had never much concerned himself with food before, eating only what he needed to survive…but the act of cooking itself, especially for Charles, was something that made him feel oddly content.

It took several weeks, but Charles was eventually able to get around without the wheelchair. On his first official day out of the chair, Erik made an Italian dinner in honor of the occasion: spaghetti Bolognese with lots of garlic bread, followed by a dessert of tiramisu, which was only slightly overdone, but was still enjoyed by all. Erik and Charles ended up taking second helpings of the dessert back to the telepath's room, along with a bottle of wine, and followed by what Charles would only reveal to Erik as "unseemly" thoughts from the teenage boys. Interestingly enough, he found himself blushing at their encouragement. It was almost as if everyone in the mansion had been waiting for this night…even little Pele, for her part. They didn't rush things, though. They lingered over the tiramisu and wine for what felt like hours.

"I swear, Erik, you're going to make me fat," he teased as he finished off the last of his dessert.

"You think so?" the metal-kine teased right back, his own plate long cleaned and his third glass of wine about half-finished.

"Yes," Charles whined, running a hand down a decidedly slim hip. "I'll start losing my girlish figure. You don't want that, now do you?"

"I'm not worried," Erik said as he poured Charles another glass, finishing off the bottle. "Now that I don't have to carry you everywhere, I _know_ you won't be able to sit still. I do have to admit, though…I'm going to miss carrying you."

"Are you, now?" Charles asked, his smile half-sad as he took a sip of wine.

"Absolutely," Erik replied, finishing off his own glass. "There is…one last place I'd like to carry you, though," he said, not looking at him as he spoke.

"Indeed?" Charles said quietly, looking down at his own nearly full glass. He knew what Erik was referring to, and he found it almost…cute. Erik had carried him to bed every single night since bringing him out of the camp, as he couldn't quite manage to get from the chair to his bed. He might have figured it out eventually, except that Erik had never allowed him the chance to do so…and tonight was different. They had come to the point where Erik would carry Charles to his bed not because he needed him to, but because he _wanted_ him to.

When Charles finally looked up at Erik again, he found he was smiling at him…not smirking, or grinning wryly, but smiling…truly.

Knowing by this that he was ready, Charles returned the smile, setting aside his glass before turning back to Erik, reaching his hands out for his. Erik leaned toward him across the couch, taking his hands and closing the distance between them, pressing his lips gently against Charles'. As he slowly deepened the kiss, he found the younger mutant tasted of red wine and sugar, with just a hint of garlic from earlier. Groaning softly at the taste, he ran his tongue hungrily along Charles', wanting more of it. As they kissed, their hands slipped from each other's grasp, exploring the other's body.

Not even bothering to separate from him, Erik easily lifted Charles into his arms, continuing to kiss him as he carried him over to the bed. Only separating from him as he laid him down, he caught his gaze, resting a hand on his thigh.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice gentle…reassuring. Remembering their first time, Charles suddenly felt their positions had been completely switched: himself as the frightened virgin and Erik as the confident, more experienced lover. Charles opened his mind to Erik, letting him know without words just how grateful he was that he was asking…that he would allow him to say that he _wasn't_ ready and stop right here, no matter how much he wanted this. Erik just smiled as he received his thoughts, waiting patiently for his answer.

"Let's find out," he said with a grin, a small flicker of his former cavalier self returning in the expression.

Grinning right back, Erik leaned in close, pressing several kisses to the telepath's neck as he reached for the hem of his sweater vest. When he had to pull away to pull the thing completely off, Charles groaned in protest at the loss of contact. Erik was back on him almost immediately, continuing to kiss his neck as he unbuttoned his shirt. Charles moaned softly all the while…right up until Erik's lips found the pulse point in his neck. The kiss sent a spark of electricity flying through his nerves and he cried out, briefly digging his fingers into Erik's shoulders.

The metal-kine growled softly against the pressure point, sending another delicious shudder through the younger mutant's body. Then, as Erik pushed the unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, Charles took the opportunity to grab at the taller man's black shirt, easily pulling it off. Feeling like he ought to return the favor, he quickly moved forward, taking one of Erik's bared nipples in his mouth and massaging the other with his hand. Erik convulsed against him, letting out a sound so high-pitched it might almost have been a squeal. His face reddened slightly, but he really couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of the noise because the sensations caused by Charles' mouth were just so intense, sparking from his chest directly to his groin. He chuckled quietly as the telepath continued to suck on the sensitive nub of flesh.

"Verdammt. And here I was going to take the lead this time."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Charles said as he pulled back a little. "I just happen to know a few more tricks."

"You'll have to teach them to me, then. _All_ of them," Erik said, his tone sultry as he reached down to undo Charles' pants. The telepath obligingly lay back down on the bed, raising his hips so Erik could pull the rest of his clothing all the way off.

This was the position they maintained for a while: Charles sprawled out on his bed with Erik straddling his nude body and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. When Charles felt like he couldn't take it anymore without coming, he surreptitiously reached for Erik's belt, undoing it and slipping a hand inside his pants before he even knew what was happening.

"Hey…why do you get to keep _your_ pants on?" he teased, giving Erik a few playful squeezes between his legs. The metal-kine nearly collapsed on top of him.

"Damn tease," he whispered in Charles' ear before taking it into his mouth. Charles gasped as Erik's tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh.

"Look who's…talking," he half-moaned in return, bucking his hips gently up against his lover's. Grinning wolfishly at this, Erik briefly rolled to the side to kick off his own clothing, leaving Charles panting and aching with desire. Before coming back to him, though, Erik reached into the nightstand beside the bed and pulled out the old jar of Vaseline. Charles grinned when he saw it. "You were keeping it there, Erik? Were you planning on seducing me?"

"Something like that. Just saving time, really," he said, popping the jar open and dipping two fingers in. Charles quickly sat up, moving to kneel before Erik.

"Be careful of your knees," Erik half-scolded him as he wrapped his free arm around Charles' shoulders, drawing their bodies close together. Charles just groaned.

"That's…what you're thinking about right now?" he teased, grinding gently against the metal-kine. The motion quickly persuaded Erik to continue.

"You ready?" he asked Charles, slowly bringing the lubricated fingers into position behind him. Charles nodded, wrapping his arms around Erik's shoulders in order to brace himself.

The moment Erik began to enter him, however…things began to change. He remembered hot, unyielding hands on his body…a throbbing mind thrusting into his…baring his bleeding soul to an uncaring world. He remembered how weak he'd been…how helpless…how in _pain_. All in a flash, it was as if the weeks had never passed and he was still in the cell with Shaw…and this time, the violation wouldn't stop with just his mind.

"Wait…wait…" he tried to whisper, but no sound came. His throat had gone dry with terror. The dull burn of Erik's fingers was amplified by his sudden fear and it became the most acute of pains. He wanted to scream…couldn't. Wanted it to stop…powerless. Only when his mind was completely consumed with pain and terror did he manage to let out a small whimper.

"Erik…stop…_please stop!_"

Hearing the tiny, desperate plea, Erik looked down to see that Charles was crying. Immediately, he withdrew.

"What's wrong? What is it?" he asked, gently grabbing his shoulders. "Did I hurt you?"

"It's…n-nothing…like th-that," he choked out pitifully, his wits slowly starting to return to him. "I just…I'm…I n-need a - minute."

Seeing that this was going to take more than a minute, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles once more, gently coaxing him into sitting on the edge of the bed with him. He said nothing, passed no judgment, simply held Charles close and allowed him to sob into his shoulder.

"I…I'm sorry," Charles eventually managed to say, still clinging to Erik for all he was worth.

"It isn't your fault," he soothed. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

"I…I've n-no right…to behave l-like…this," he insisted through the tears. "You…you w-were…just a…child…whe-when-"

"Yes, I _was_ just a child," Erik interrupted calmly, "but he didn't do _this_ to me. You have every right to react this way."

"B-but…what if it…n-never stops? W-what if…I can't…ever _be_ w-with you…ever again?" he wondered, a fresh wave of tears washing over him.

"That's okay," Erik said, gently rubbing his back. "It doesn't matter if the only sex I get for the rest of my life comes from my right hand…so long as _you're_ okay."

"I _wouldn't_…be okay," he hissed. "Sex is…_wonderful_…and you…deserve…to h-have it…in your life."

"Well…if that's how you really feel…I suppose you'll come back to it again when you're ready," the metal-kine said, amazing even himself with his own tenderness. He did not consider himself a kind person, and Charles knew that better than most…and yet…with the telepath, this sort of thing just…came naturally. He would do anything in his power to take away Charles' pain…to soothe his fears.

"I want…to try it again," the younger mutant murmured after several moments, his tears slowly starting to lessen.

"You mean…tonight?" Erik asked uncertainly. Charles turned in his embrace, looking up at him.

"Just…one more time. If I can't handle it…if I panic…we can stop. I just…feel like I need to do this. If I don't…if I run away…it means he wins. Do you…understand?" he asked, his lower lip still trembling slightly.

"Ja," Erik said, hugging him close one more time and kissing the top of his head. "Ich…verstehe. Es wird alles gut, mein Lieben," he said, knowing Charles would catch his meaning through his powers.

Laughing quietly, even though his eyes were still red from crying, Charles smiled weakly up at him. "You know…I've always loved it whenever you start speaking German."

"Really?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ja," Charles returned, his smile getting a little bigger as he leaned in to kiss him. "It's very…sexy."

Giving Charles an odd smirk as he extricated himself from him, he crawled back onto the bed, confident Charles would follow him. "You don't have to seduce me…if we're going to do this, we're doing it slow."

Nodding, Charles followed him. "Let's…let's do what we did before."

_I want it to be…familiar._

"Just what I was thinking," Erik said, propping himself up against the headboard and making himself as non-threatening as possible, his arms lying open at his sides, inviting.

Charles grabbed the discarded container of Vaseline, moving in to straddle Erik's legs. Taking his time to lather the older mutant up, his erection returned easily enough.

Erik moved even slower than before when preparing his fingers for Charles. When he _was_ finally ready, he pulled Charles in close to him, holding him tightly against his chest with his free arm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered to him, gently pressing two fingers against his entrance…and as he pushed into him, Erik felt the telepath's mind open to his. Love, warmth, and trust flowed easily between them.

_I love you…and I __**know**__ you love me. I __**know**__ you won't hurt me_. The thoughts flooded Erik's mind. Charles was telling himself just as much as he was him.

As he made Charles ready for him, their minds began to meld gently together. Charles clung to him just as tightly through the mental link as he did on the physical plane…a rock to keep him from drowning in his own helpless fear. Erik remained steadfast for him, even as he was inundated with the telepath's mind.

_You were strong for me. It's my turn to be strong for you._

When Erik received a mental signal from Charles that he was ready, he slowly withdrew his hand, helping him to position himself. Before he could move, though, Erik placed his hands on his hips, holding him in place.

"You're _sure_?" he asked him, steadily holding his gaze. Rather than answer, Charles leaned forward, claiming Erik's lips with his own as he closed the final distance between them.

At first, he was nervous and afraid, but rather than let Erik suggest that they stop, he held onto his consciousness, drawing warmth and love from it.

_No…I can do this. I can. I won't let him take it from us._

_Charles…I don't want to watch you hurt yourself…_

At this thought, a tearful smile spread across the telepath's face and he rested his head against Erik's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat for several minutes.

_And that's how I know this is right. You __**care**__ about me. No one else has…__**ever**__ cared. No one except Raven. _

Trusting to the utter sincerity he felt from his lover, Erik allowed it to continue. Charles began to move above him, slow, sensuous motions, up and down, drawing tremulous breaths from both their mouths. Erik reciprocated with a few gentle thrusts of his own, but his movements were limited in this position. It was mostly up to Charles from here on in…and he knew what to do. He rode Erik with gentle, rolling motions of his hips, drawing toward the final climax only inches at a time.

It seemed almost an eternity that they moved together on the bed, so intimately joined were their minds, souls, and bodies. Ultimately, it became difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. They were moving further and further into each other…truly becoming one…seeing the best and the worst of each other…and each only loving the other more. Surely, no two beings in history had known each other better.

As he drew closer and closer to his orgasm, Charles' breath came in increasingly sharp, shallow gasps. His mind was filled with the pleasure he was giving Erik…and when the other man suddenly struck the spot deep inside him that melted him with pleasure, he finally reached the height.

"Unh…Erik…" he cried out softly as his semen spilled between their bodies.

Charles' climax brought Erik to his own. He held Charles tightly against him, grunting softly as he finished in him. As he tumbled from the heights of the orgasm, he let his head fall against Charles' chest, and the telepath laid his head on top of his as he collapsed against him. They lay like that for a while, gently caressing each other's sweat-slicked skin and listening to the satiated sounds of their heavy breathing.

"Charles…mein Charles," Erik murmured against his chest, pressing a kiss to the sweaty skin.

"Ja," Charles returned with no small amount of triumph in his voice as he kissed the top of Erik's head. "Alle deine."

XxX

"So how's it going?" Mystique asked for the umpteenth time.

"They're fine now," Moira reported. While she still wasn't able to actively read minds, she could pick up the occasional strong thought…and the thoughts in the Xavier household were rampantly strong this evening. There had been some rough spots earlier, but Erik and Charles seemed to be doing fine now.

"Juicy stuff?" the shape shifter asked with a wry grin.

"Yes, very, from what I can tell," Moira said, sounding almost prim. "Can I _please_ stop listening in on your brother's sex life now?"

"Sure," Mystique said flippantly before climbing into bed. "It's been an exhausting evening…making sure those two shack up. They needed it."

"Don't I know it. They've both been going to pieces for weeks," Moira said, following suit. While Mystique was naked, she was dressed in nothing but an old t-shirt, her usual sleepwear. The two of them had decided to continue their roommate arrangement. It worked well for the both of them…made them feel more comfortable…and while Moira knew why this was, she had decided from the very first that she would let Mystique figure it out for herself.

"So, we still in any danger of this Onslaught character making another appearance?" Mystique asked, only half-serious.

"Yes," Moira answered, all serious. She wasn't going to joke when it came to that. "I think…there's always going to be a danger of that…so long as Charles has people he loves and wants to protect. Onslaught isn't gone. He's only biding his time…waiting for Charles to suffer a moment of weakness."

"Charles isn't weak," Mystique insisted. She had a few problems with the way her brother dealt with the world, but she would still defend him to the death.

"No…no, he isn't. He's strong…but it's because he's so strong that he's fragile," the precog said cryptically. Mystique couldn't help but shudder. It felt almost…like an unintentional prophecy…like some unknowable, intangible point in the future had been horribly locked into place. On a night like tonight, Mystique had no desire to go down this road with her friend.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she started as she switched off the lamp, "what are you planning on doing with all those notebooks? Since you…can't really see them anymore."

"I've been thinking about…letting you see some of them," Moira said slowly. "Just you, though. I…I need help figuring them out. There are things I've seen that…that _must_ not happen…no matter what."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you, but…there is one other thing I've been wanting to ask you; there's just…been so much happening."

"Yes?"

"When did…Irene Kinross become Moira MacTaggert?"

Saying nothing for a long while, Moira finally closed her sightless eyes and shook her head, reaching for Mystique's hand beneath the blankets. "I'll tell you all about her some day…but not tonight. All you really need to know right now is that I'm not either of those people. I can't be my mum forever."

"Who are you, then? What's your _real_ name?" Mystique asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

"Destiny," the precog answered after another long silence.

"For your power?"

"No…not that, even. I want…to _change_ things," she said quietly, squeezing Mystique's hand. "I want…to believe that _anything_ can be changed."

"Then I'll help you," Mystique promised, returning the pressure of her hand. "I'll help you change the future…Destiny."

XxX

Charles woke alone the next morning, but his brief spike of fear was soon assuaged when he reached for Erik's mind. The metal-kine was busy in the kitchen.

Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms and a robe, he quickly headed down, only slightly sore from last night.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he was greeted by the scent of blueberry pancakes. Coming up behind Erik, he slipped his arms around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.

"How did you know?"

"I was dreaming about it…and I can't stand blueberries, so I assumed it was carrying over from you."

"Heh, good guess. I'm sorry about that. What are you eating?"

"For now, I'm good with coffee," he replied, nodding toward the half-finished cup next to the plate of finished pancakes. "Any interest?"

"Absolutely," Charles said, going for the pot on the burner. He was more of a tea drinker himself, but since the coffee was already there, he wasn't going to complain. Once he'd made himself a cup, he topped Erik's off before returning the pot to the burner.

"Have a seat," Erik said, nodding toward a plate he'd set aside. "I'll be over in a minute. I'm almost done with the batter."

Taking a moment to slather the pancakes in syrup before he sat down, Charles couldn't quite bring himself to eat when he actually _did_ sit. He just stared at his plate, watching air bubbles ooze up out of the syrup.

"You know…sometimes it just…doesn't feel real," he said, his eyes going distant.

"What?" Erik asked as he joined him at the table, though he had a feeling he already knew.

"_This_…any if it. I feel like I've only hallucinated the past month…and I'm about to wake up…back in that _cell_…" he whispered, his eyes bright as he gripped his mug in white hands. Reaching across the table, Erik placed his own hand on top of Charles'.

"Ich verstehe. Sometimes I feel like the last eighteen years have been a dream…and that I'll wake up back there with Herr Doktor about to shove needles in my eyes. You don't just…get over it. Sometimes, all we can do is…keep on breathing," he said, running a gentle thumb over Charles' knuckles, which slowly began to loosen their death grip on the mug. Charles closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths.

"Do you know…what day it is?" he asked when he opened his eyes again.

"Ah…Wednesday?" Erik guessed lamely after thinking about it for several minutes.

Charles chuckled. "Be that as it may, I was referring to the date. It's December twenty-fourth…Christmas Eve. I guess none of us noticed…with everything else going on."

"And…?" Erik prompted, not really sure where Charles was going with this.

"Heh, of course it wouldn't mean much to you. I forgot. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

"No. I haven't really done any of that since…since before the war," he said quietly, unable to keep himself from recalling the memory Charles had awakened in him.

"Well…whatever one happens to celebrate, it's still the holiday season. I'd been hoping we could give the children a proper one…especially Pele…even though I have no idea what sort of background she's from. My best guess is she's of Polynesian descent, but-"

"Charles?" Erik interrupted abruptly. "You were…going somewhere with this?"

"Yes, sorry. I suppose I just…want to start Pele's year off properly."

"I doubt Pele would know what to do with Christmas anyway."

"But that's what this year is _for_, Erik. To show her these things. Though…there is something I've been meaning to ask you…concerning that."

"What?"

"I was wondering…if you might be willing to do sessions with Pele and I?"

"What? You mean like…therapy?" he asked uncertainly.

"Something like that, yes. Pele…relates to you…in a way she can't relate to anyone else."

"You, too," Erik insisted, looking away from the telepath.

Charles shook his head. "Not like you. Your circumstances are much more similar than mine and hers. _Please_, Erik. It would be good for her…and it certainly wouldn't hurt either of us."

"Only if you're sure," the metal-kine said after a time. "There are things in my head no kid should see…things even _you_ haven't seen," he warned.

"The same could be said of my and Pele's minds. There are things about me you don't know yet…things only a telepath could figure out…even after last night."

"I suppose I _will_ see these things, though…if we do this."

"Yes. Are you sure you still _want_ to?" Charles asked, reaching across the table to hold both Erik's hands in his.

Instead of answering, Erik leaned across the space between them and pressed his lips to Charles'.

_It's fine. I don't mind it. What I __**do**__ mind is if you let those pancakes get cold. I worked hard on those._

Laughing into the kiss, Charles finally broke it and went for his utensils, cutting into the sopping pancakes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

The brief moment of amusement was interrupted by a rustling from the kitchen doorway. The two men looked up to see Pele standing there. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown that had once belonged to Raven, and new dark hair was starting to sprout from her scalp once again, like the fuzz on a newborn's head. She stared at them for several minutes, saying nothing.

"Good morning, Pele," Charles finally greeted, smiling at her. "Are you hungry?"

For several more minutes, Pele continued to stare, her lips twitching occasionally.

"What are…those?" she finally managed to ask, sounding as if the words were stuck in her throat. Even after a month, she still wasn't used to not having instant access to any information she wanted. Charles had no doubt it frustrated the young girl to no end. She wasn't used to having to ask for things.

"These are pancakes, blueberry, to be exact. Would you like to try a bite? See if you want some?"

Nodding slowly, her face remaining carefully blank, Pele walked over to the table and Charles offered her his fork. Taking it, she eyed the food warily for several moments before sticking the fork in her mouth. Chewing contemplatively, her eyes slowly widened and the corners of her mouth twitched…almost seeming like a smile…but then her face snapped back to the guarded look…as if she were ashamed of almost revealing her emotional state.

"I…think I will have some of that," she said primly, returning Charles' fork. The next moment, the three boys tumbled into the kitchen, followed by the much more graceful Moira and Mystique.

"Sweet! Pancakes!" Banshee cheered.

XxX

When Richard Aldine answered his door on Christmas Eve, he'd been expecting carolers…not a man in a helmet, a diamond woman, and what appeared to be a demon. This wasn't the sort of thing that happened in Iowa Suburbia.

"Can I help you?" he asked slowly, fighting the impulse to slam the door in their faces.

"I imagine so," the man in the helmet began in a very suave tone. "Tell me, Mr. Aldine…where might I find your lovely daughter?"

A warning spark shot down Richard's spine at this. People like this wouldn't be looking for his daughter unless…

…they knew.

"Sally!" he shouted back into the living room. "Run! Take Ruth and go!" This was all he managed before the demon plunged a sword through his heart.

Moments later, a woman, Sally Aldine, appeared in the entry hall. She didn't even take the time to scream when she saw her husband dead. She turned and bolted back the way she'd come. The three mutants stalked slowly after her, knowing there was no need for them to hurry. Their prize was right where they wanted her.

Coming into the living room, they found Sally trying to hustle a girl up from the couch. She was about twelve with long dark hair, but the most striking thing about this girl was that she wore a blindfold around her eyes.

"Leave the girl and we will spare your life," the helmeted man told Sally. "If you don't, well…I believe you already know."

"She's my daughter!" Sally protested, placing herself squarely between the intruders and her child.

"Yes…you did well to give birth to such an exquisite creature, Sally Aldine. But she doesn't belong to you anymore. She will serve a greater purpose."

"What do you want with her?" Sally demanded.

"I find myself in need of a prognosticator…and she fits my needs perfectly. Leave her to us and we'll let you live."

Torn between what she already knew and her love for her baby, Sally turned back to her daughter, Ruth, who shook her head solemnly.

"No, they won't."

The helmeted man nodded, sighing before answering honestly. "No. We won't."

At these words, the demon sprang forward, making short work of Sally Aldine's head. The room, meticulously adorned with Christmas decorations, was sprayed with blood.

Throughout it all, Ruth hadn't moved. She stood beside the couch now, dripping with her mother's blood, shedding not a single tear for her parents' violent deaths.

"Hello…Sebastian Shaw."

"You've been expecting me," he said, pleased.

"I have. I knew you would come…long before I understood what the blood meant…I knew. I've been waiting."

"You knew…this whole time?" Azazel asked skeptically. "You knew…and you still remained? Why didn't you run? Why didn't you fight?"

"Because I knew I couldn't change any of it," she answered, her voice strained. "No matter how much I screamed or denied it…I couldn't stop you from finding me. None of us have the power to fight with destiny."

"Well said," Shaw said, extending out his hand to her. She came forward and took it. "Perhaps it's good I lost my first precog. You'll do splendidly, dear Ruth. Though…if you don't mind…may I?" he asked, reaching his other hand toward her blindfold. Ruth simply nodded and Shaw grasped the length of rough dark fabric, pulling it gently from her head and revealing what was underneath.

Ruth Aldine could never have shed tears, no matter how much she might want to…for she had no eyes, only bare stretches of flesh where they ought to have been.

"Ruth is a lovely name, to be sure," Shaw said, raising the young precog's hand to his lips and brushing a chaste kiss over her knuckles, "But I want to know…what you _really_ call yourself…in the still watches of the night when _they_ weren't listening."

"My name, Sebastian Shaw, maker of demons and angels…is Blindfold."

XxX

(A/N) So…enough to whet your appetite for the next in the series? Because yeah, this will, in fact, be a series. After all, I couldn't just change the defining moment in the First Class continuity and just leave it there, now could I? I suppose I could have just continued this, but I really felt like they needed to be separate stories, y'know?

**Translations:** Ja = yes. Ich verstehe = I understand. Es wird alles gut = Everything will be all right. Mein Lieben = my love. Alle deine = All yours.

**Notes:** 1 – Interesting thing. As I was working on this chapter, I had a bit of a revelation. Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, slayer of humans…is whipped. He's so whipped it's hardly even funny. When the hell did that happen?

2 – Sex…hmm…that ended up being more of a spiritual mating than a physical one…but I guess that's just what they both needed it to be. I'm capable of writing much dirtier, I promise…as you'll hopefully find out in the future.

3 – And thus Moira's mutant identity is revealed. GeorginoschkaVincen, I hadn't actually heard of Blindfold before you mentioned her, so I believe I have you to thank for the evil little plot bunny that's germinating in the last scene. Thank you.

Well, in closing, I hope you all enjoyed 'The Key To My Heart', and hope to see you in its continuation, 'How Do You Measure…'


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